Got a call a few hours ago that my psychotherapist, whom I had seen for upwards of a decade, is in hospice.  The Parkinson's finally got to him, goddammit.  His secretary called me; she said his wife told her he has a few days at most, and he will not be taking visitors.  But she will do her best to call me again when, well, it happens.  I hope I will be able to go to his memorial service.

I feel bad I have been going on with my life and temporarily forgetting what is happening to him in the hours since I heard the news.  Life -- it never ends well.