We went to see Mammaw today at her nursing home. She’s been declining, I’m sad to say. She’s sleeping most of the day and night and has mostly lost her appetite, but insists she’s feeling “good, good.” When we walked in this evening, she was sound asleep in bed with her supper on the tray in front of her, untouched. We woke her up gently and asked if she was hungry. She said no, but I started to spoon feed her soup and she said it was actually “pretty good.” One bite of of her sandwich was “plenty” and half the can of Ensure was “enough.” As a little soup dribbled down her chin, Ben reached out with her napkin to wipe it away so tenderly it broke my heart. As I cleared the food away, he was counting up the calorie total of what she had eaten, assuring me it was enough not to worry. He held her hand and hugged her goodbye as we left. And I felt a lump in my throat, and said a small prayer thanking God for strong men who are the protectors of the weaker ones in their lives.