CARRIE CLASSON (cont.)

She's been too ill for visitors. Her pain is higher, and her oxygen is lower, and we don't really know what is happening because she is too tired to tell us. Peter keeps bringing her food and I keep writing, but I cannot tell you how much I miss Lori's laughter.

I did not realize how much I have relied on Lori's laughter through all these weeks and months. I did not realize how seeing her every week has anchored my life to something real and joyful and positivebecause that is what Lori is.

Today the sun is not shining, and a cold wind is blowing, and we have not heard from Lori and I don't know if we will.

“Maybe we'll see her this weekend,” Peter says.

“Maybe she'll feel better by the end of the week.”

But we don't know. No one knows.

There are no platitudes about Stage 4 cancer that will make things fine.

Things are not fine, and that is how it is. We don't know what the future will hold. She has battled back before, and we are hoping she will again.

But we don't know.

Peter cooks and worries. I write. Lori is now far behind in the story. I am trying to remember what I last read to her.

But every time I come to a part where a deliciously unpleasant person is behaving especially badly, I imagine how Lori would laugh, if I were reading to her, if I finally get the chance to read to her again. “Oh!” I think to myself.

“Lori will love this.”

Till next time, Carrie

Carrie Classon is an actress, author, columnist and playwright. Her memoir is called, “ Blue Yarn.”

Learn more at CarrieClasson. com.