I sat on the train fatigued but fully awake thinking over the past two weeks, weeks filled with death and loss. The sudden death of a close friend's father. My baby girl losing her first tooth. A contract that did not materialize. The pending death of my spiritual brother, Russell.

When I met Russ and his wife Sandy over 16 years ago at my church, the connection was instantaneous. Was it because I looked exactly like his biological sister? Possibly, but there was something more. We clicked, and he became my big brother. She became my sister. They became my friends.

Not too soon afterward, Russ and Sandy learned they were both HIV positive. True to their nature and character, they took this devastating event and turned it into something amazing. Dedicating their lives to helping and educating those afflicted and the public at large, their work catapulted them into the national spotlight. They made an appearance on the Jerry Springer Show (at a time when the show was of a more positive nature) and were a significant part of an exhibit that toured many scientific museums including the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia.

When Sandy passed, Russ dealt with the grief as I imagine most of us would...humanly. Losing his wife would be the hardest thing in the process. Dealing with the fact that one day her fate would be his reality must have run a close second.

That reality came to be last week when he was rushed to the hospital. With a "do not resuscitate" order in place, the doctors were giving him only 3 days. If his condition didn't change, he would be removed from life support. I saw him that Sunday. They took him off life support Tuesday. Somehow, he managed to hold on.

He was moved to a hospice in South Philly, and it was there that I saw him for what would be my last time. It was difficult to see him in the state he was in. The fight was evident. What I wasn't sure about was if he was fighting to live or fighting to leave. I stayed with him for an hour, kissed him on his forehead, and left. I dealt with the hard fact that I was about to lose him as I imagine most of us would...humanly.

As the train rumbled station to station, I became aware of the sound of a baby crying unceasingly. Noticing the annoyance of the other passengers, I too started to go there but was challenged in my spirit to "learn to enjoy the sound of a baby crying". I took a deep breath and listened. I really listened and heard the beauty.

The train came to a stop, and

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