Last week we went for a drink with our beloved Nick Rudd. We sat talking about everything and nothing all at the same time, and I mused on when I first met him. I think it was at a party in Decatur…in a huge old mansion that was divided up into apartments. I might be wrong, but that's what I recall. Later that evening, I thought about it more. I must have been 18, maybe 19, and he would have been a couple of years older. It struck me that's not much older than the guys. I can't help but wonder who they are meeting now that will be in their life as many years as it has been since I met Nick. It's like looking at baby pictures. I'd look at the boys' pictures when they were little and wonder what it would be like to look at those pictures when they were adults. What will stand out as so Owen or so Leo?
My dear friend, Bob, lost his mother this week. She was 95 and surrounded by family, so in some ways as good as it gets. It's still a brutal experience, though. I remember, after my sister died, I said to Bob that I thought I would have been more prepared. He gently told me, "you can't practice something you've never done." That's always stayed with me, not just in regards to death, but in other aspects of life.
I am so grateful for my friends and loved ones. I wish I could take some of their hurt but we all have to bear that in one way or another.