Precisely one week before Wes died, on his lasts fully awake day (he was bed bound by this point), Wes kept reapeating over and over again, with a blissful look on his face: "I'm happy." "I'm so happy." "I'm really really happy." "I'm so happy."
His words were hard to come by at this point in his life, and often came out haltingly because his tumor was in the speech center. But he was saying this over and over with great determination and meaning.
After a while, it occurred to me that something more than a good mood might be going on.
"Wes, are you seeing saints and angels?"
Wes happened to be chewing a bit of food when I asked the question. He didn't answer me with words, but his face broke out into the most affirmative, delighted and mischievious grin. He never did answer me with words after he finished his bite. I don't think he was allowed to tell me, and I didn't press the point. But he told me with his smile.
This memory brings me great comfort.