First Preacher.
Then Clarence.
Now my Dad.
I was cruising through Instagram the other day. Social media is an odd thing. Like really, such an odd thing. I saw a sweet photo from my friend Megan (she and her husband Greg adopted on of my most dear foster dogs ever, ever, ever and we've just kept in touch, become friends I'd say). Anyway, she posted a photo with a sweet, sorta sad caption. This is where social media is just odd. My curiosity was piqued and I did a little googling around and discovered that her friend, whose home the photo was shot in, has cancer. He started a blog at the beginning of his journey six years ago. I started at the beginning and have been completely pulled in.
I'm not sure what it is with me and the sorrow of other people's tragedies lately. I spent a good part of yesterday and this morning still completely immersed reading the Teaching Cancer to Cry blog. I would have kept reading, but, on this dreary, rainy day, I have a little work to wrap up before I ready myself for a funeral. It's kind of hard to read, knowing all along, ahead, how things are turning out...
I put my phone (aka reading device) down and went into the studio to work. I couldn't even bring myself to turn on the lights. Instead I tuned my phone to my collection of Jackson Browne and set about packaging orders to the lamp light on my desk. Now that's done and I need to go get dressed. But I'm stalling.
We lost a dear, sweet man this past Saturday. I've known he and his wife my entire life, just life long dear family friends. I'm not quite sure if I've ever met a kinder, more gentle person...and he and his wife have had the kind of marriage that you dream of having. The kind where you don't know where one begins and the other one ends...just beautiful. But now, I just don't know how she will go on with out him. Last night I was hugging her and she whispered in my ear "Please don't forget about me." Gutted.
I've gotta go.
Sorry for the kinda grey post.
Keepin' it real.
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