My nephew Bilbo died today. Yesterday I had raced from Virginia to New York to be with him and Monty. The entire bus ride up, I kept hoping I’d make it before he passed. Around seven in the evening I got off at Penn Station and took the A and the L to Ridgewood. Monty had him wrapped in a little blanket on her bed. His eyes were open and he was breathing, but he did not react much. We stayed with him on the bed for a long time, eventually moving to the living room and Monty cradling him in his blanket as we all sat around talking and saying goodbye. Monty said she could tell he had perked up a little having people he knew around, but it was only a matter of time until his little body gave out . . . he had chronic kidney disease and had rapidly lost weight in the last few weeks, and was down to only four pounds.

Before we went sleep, Monty laid him back down on her bed. He felt cold to the touch but was still hanging on . . . I kissed him on the cheek and told him I loved him. I knew it would be the last time I would see him alive.

He passed away in the early morning while we were all still sleeping. A man came to collect him for cremation a few hours later but I did not look.

Bilbo was a soothing guy to be around. He was absolutely pure in heart. He was Monty’s best friend. He was her Dante. Bilbo and I spent a week together in Portland last winter, just the two of us, while Monty and her family were traveling through Idaho. He stayed by my side the entire time and slept on my pillow every night. I will miss him so much. Rest in peace, sweet Bilbo.