Departing
There’s a gentle rain falling in the Hill Country, although I can only speak with confidence about my little patch of ground. We’ve had a good stretch of recent wet weather although no creeks are flowing from what I can see on drives around the area. It appears most of the water is soaking in which is certainly good for the plant life. I know my vegetation is in a state of green bliss. The rose on the front porch is blooming.
In addition to rain, I woke up to the news that a friend’s wife had passed away in the night. She was suffering from the same disease that took my wife, frontotemporal dementia. I’d give him a hug but he’s in Pennsylvania. His name is Rich. His wife’s name is Connie. He, too, is a writer and chronicler of his journey with dementia. Here’s a link to his blog that tells his tale. I’d say it’s over now, but it’s a two-part trip, and now he’s starting the second leg.
Yesterday, I wrote about the winds of life that shape us. Death is one of those steady blows that stays with you, and it can twist you into a pretzel if you’re not careful. Although, I suspect Rich will be okay because his kids are close at hand, and he has nice network of friends who care about him, and I can attest to the value of that combination. But he’s just getting started, so if you have a thought or prayer you could send his way, I’m sure he’d appreciate it.