A Litany of Loss

This week has been full of loss and heartache. First an old family friend dies suddenly of a heart attack last Saturday. A family friend my mom has known her entire life. His children all peers to my brother and me. Someone we’ve seen every summer of our lives at Higgins Lake. Gruff and funny and warmer with age, you just knew he would be one of those grumpy old men who seemed like he was going to live forever. Shocking and heart wrenching, his unexpected passing leaves a gaping hole in the reality of all who knew him.

And if that loss was not enough, my dear high school friend lost her courageous battle with breast cancer last night. Forty-one years old. The mother of three boys. A beautiful, vibrant, larger-than-life individual. I wrote her a letter last year and told her she was a bright, bright star in the sky of my youth. And even though we hadn’t done a great job of staying in touch over the years, knowing she was somewhere in this world doing good things was always a comfort. Now, I comfort myself knowing she is not in pain. And she still is a bright, bright star; one that I can now share my prayers with and throw my hopes to. She was always a great athlete, so catch them she will. I’ve nothing to fear . . .

Except for that little thing tomorrow morning . . . our dog, Holly, has a tumor the size of a lime in her neck that has to be removed. I take her for surgery at 7 a.m. Holly’s nine, has hip dysplasia, and takes Phenobarbital twice a day for seizures. She is also the nicest, sweetest dog in the world. The only thing that keeps everyone from falling in love with her: she’s stinky. We have a creek, she stays wet, and wet dog, well, it’s not so good. But for those who can get past the stench . . . it’s friends for life. Really. The other very best thing about Holly: she introduced Jeff and me nine years ago. I knew they were both keepers way back when. She’s not only a part of our family; she’s a symbol of our relationship. And I need her to be O.K.

So there we have it: a week of grief that’s a lot to manage. And I’m still waiting on spring. Or at least the time change. Not only do I need the light, I’m banking on the time change to re-set Sage’s sleep schedule. Sleeping all the way through the night and past 5 a.m. That’s what I’m shooting for today. More light, more sleep, more Holly. That’s all God. Those are my hopes Kris. Catch . . .