When I first saw him in the hospital bed, I couldn’t hold it together. He looked so small and fragile, so weak, like I’d never seen him before. But on this particular occasion, although he was still in the same condition, he was larger than life. He thought he was going to die. We all were gathered around him. We each went up and spoke to him, quietly, one at a time. In that moment nothing else existed. Life and death and time and everything was contained within him. Despite his physical weakness there was nothing more real, more true, more solid than him at that moment. He was the center.