Love Poems of Life The summer of 1991, I am hired to take care of Lowell. Barbara, his wife of only one year, asks me to also cook. There is a steady stream of visitors which Lowell delights in. His best friend is Bob, a writer and sociologist, visiting often. After dinner, everyone enjoys listening to Bob as he reads out loud from his writing-in-progress about his Jewish family and upbringing in Chicago. Balmy evenings. Lowell’s progressing bladder cancer. He and I have a secret code when things need to calm down: doucement – gently. Three weeks later, the hospital bed arrives, making things a little easier. Lowell needs stronger painkillers. Together we discern who is “comfortable” visiting their bedridden friend, now by looking gaunt. I am laser focused on Lowell’s well-being, all else is just part of the colorful, at times thorny, setting. To me new, unknown. Doucement. The home is light filled, birds chirping outside the window, a warm breeze. On this quiet Sunday afternoon,...