I love sleeping at night. It makes everything so much easier. I wonder if anybody else has stumbled onto that.
I got an extra hour and a half of sleep last night because I worked 9-1 today. Work was much quieter than yesterday. Ron came in and we got to talk for a minute. I told him how proud you would be of his son. I can't believe that little Tanner, who you mentored, is all grown up and is the town clerk/treasurer. I'm proud of him, too.
I'm sure you remember that Ron's wife died about six months before you did. Today Ron asked, "How long has it been?" And it struck me that, in a conversation between two widowed people, the meaning of "it" is perfectly plain. It is a shared experience that makes linguistic clarity superfluous. "It" can mean only one thing.
And that is why the fellowship of other widows is so, so important. As Ron said today, you can't understand it unless you've been there yourself. I suppose that is true for any apolcayptic life event. And this is my own personal apocalypse. I am sorry that there are others going through the same thing, but I'm glad when we can touch and relate to each other. We all know full well what "it" is.
Ron is doing okay, which is the best you can ask. We agreed that it sucks and that we're ready to move along to Heaven. But here we are. Give my love to Sallie, and tell her that Ron looks good and is surviving. I know she's proud of Tanner, too.