We’re born, we die. Should I have grieved this commonplace epiphany? I did, a little, but mostly I felt blessed as if by an afghan like ones my mother’s generation draped over the backs of their davenports. I took in Kathy’s stars one at a time and received hope. There’s no other way to say it. Continue reading
He was restless and quivering on the 20th. The next morning Kathy and son Micah got him to the veterinarian in time for his last breath. Our buddy possessed a finicky digestive system, sensitive skin and his breed’s lust for the chase. He hooped endlessly. He was a lanky galoot. His forehead was glorious to kiss. Continue reading
What possessed me to start bellowing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” as I helped my mother-in-law, Edna, remain standing while wife Kathy and daughter Elena quickly changed the hospital bed sheets? I’ve no clue. Continue reading
A Napper's Companion 