The sun sets late, the wind blows warm. The Man and I stare at our wild garden and wonder, dream, repair.
Our friend's wife died Thursday and even though she had been sick for all the years we knew her, it's still hard to find the right way to grieve. They had a tough love, lots of bumps and bruises along the way, only to have their life culminate with her suffering from that lovely leveler, cancer.
All those years. All those things, issues, stresses, joys, worries, arguments, happiness. All those things done.
How many times do we have to be hit over the head to get the message?