Jeff is my son-in-law. His mom died last Friday. Shirley. And it makes me sad. She's 67, still young. Lola says Shirley was always so happy, so easy to be around. People were drawn to her. It's sad to lose someone like that. I hope Jeff can talk about it with his Nevada relatives, that is if he wants to.
No, I'm not going to carry on or wallow in the sadness I feel about it, because that would just take me right back to losing Wayne. But I will say--not for the first time--that for me death is the hardest part of life. It is the trial of my faith.
My friend Mike, in his early 50s, is ready to go, he says. Anytime. Not that he's looking for ways to die. No. But that he does not fear it. "Whenever He wants to take me," he told me the other day, "I'll be ready and more than glad to go." That has never been my view of things.
Do you think there is a way to change one's point of view on this issue? I mean, what good does it do to be afraid?
Shirley had projects, things she wanted to do, stuff she was working on. I say good for her. And I think I can hear her say, "Life is short. Live. Do things now."
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