A very dear friend passed away yesterday.
He ate breakfast at our table two days before that.
Here was a man who we've known for 20 years.
He was active, happy, helpful, a lover of children.
Our children, who were very young 20 years ago,
remember his words and his character.
He had been unwell, but no one knew how much.
He went to the hospital and didn't come back alive.
He left his things scattered in his bedroom in our home,
ready to be organized for his recovery.
His shaving kit was in the bathroom, his clothes in the closet.
All that's left is a little bit of stuff.
Those things that were in daily use and are no longer needed.
Now, all that's left is an empty room.
Life, even after 80 years, is a temporary thing.
What we'll remember is not that stuff,
but who he was and what he really lived for.
