Well, it has been missing over the past two weeks.  Actual living can erase all thoughts of death and dying.  For most, that is kind of a good thing.  Why worry about it?

For me, it is not so good.  I am supposed to be pounding out the pages on my manuscript, but lately I haven't been motivated to do so.  I've had sick kids, I adopted an adorable little kitten who is hell bent on destroying every piece of furniture I own, and my actual day job has been demanding lately.

But, that all ended yesterday.  In August, I contacted a death row inmate named Khristian Oliver.  My reason?  A death row inmate is the only person, besides someone intent on killing themselves, who actually knows the date and approximate time of their death.  When I polled people about knowing when they were going to die, most said they'd rather not know.  So, I was curious.  Mr. Oliver didn't scare me.  Yes, he killed someone (and no I don't condone killing people) but there was something about him that made me feel I could approach him.  So, I wrote him a letter.  He replied and politely declined to be interviewed.  I accepted that and didn't pursue anyone else.  It's a weird line of questioning I'm going after and quite frankly, it's an uncomfortable spot to be in.

Yesterday, I got a letter from him out of the blue.  It actually made me cry.  It was simple and straightforward and honest.  Without him actually saying it, I saw his loss of hope.  He has accepted his fate.

Now I am desperately trying to figure out the best way to interview him.  Time is running out. His execution date is November 5, 2009.