Grace

Grace. She and mom were both raised in Chicago and are the same age only separated by a few months. They are total opposites in many ways including politics and the state of their homes. They argue. They tease. They deeply love each other. Dear friends.

Grace has a son. Mom has heard stories about this son for years always spoken in hushed "God-like" tones. When I was at mom's for her birthday after her stint in the hospital last August, Grace threw a birthday party for her and I was invited. We talked a lot. I guess she liked me, too.

Grace. Last week, mom e-mailed that Grace wanted to know the name of my exact disease. She then called and told her biologist son, who has taken new drugs through the process then onto the market, and told him to find a cure for my disease. No one says no to Grace, not even her son.

Grace told mom yesterday that her son just told her that he has an idea and is going to start working on it.

I often wonder why I got this disease. Wouldn't it be delightful that because of my disease, a biologist focused his full attention on it and stumbled upon, at the very least, a treatment or maybe even a cure. That would be worth dying for. All thanks to Grace.

In other news: I just have to comment on the passing of Steve Jobs. I do not talk a lot about the parents at the school where I got sick. The very rich. The very famous. The very brilliant. Steve Jobs was one of our dads. He had a daughter who graduated from the school years earlier and he even designed the new science lab. With his second family, he returned to the school with a pre-K son and babies. I can tell you this: He was a very good dad. That is how I will remember him. My thoughts are with his children.