And now it is Monday morning. It's been a nice weekend. Tim and I are taking a trip this week, just a day trip to Ohio, but we will be meeting Susan and her husband Randy, flying in from Arizona. It is the first time that I've met a blogger friend in real life, and we both are plenty excited about this. So we dabbled around on the computer looking for things to do in the Cleveland area. There was quite a number of things listed, but things always sound like great fun on paper, don't they? So we did a lot of debating. Sunday morning we went to church, and a couple walked in and sat down in front of us. Because I am a blabber (you may not have noticed), I started a conversation, and guess where they were from? Yep. Cleveland. We got some very nice ideas from them.
Sunday turned out to be quite a day. We went to a birthday party. We found out that our friend had slipped into a coma and was breathing his last. There were tears. We all wanted to do something, but there is nothing really to be done at that point, is there? So we grabbed up our hymnals and headed for their front yard where we stood in front of the open window and sang four of the old hymns that Bill loved so much. The Old Rugged Cross. Be Thou my Vision. It is Well With My Soul. Amazing Grace. Although we had walked over as a group, cars following us with the people who could not walk, we came back in rag tag groups, quiet. It seems impossible that we will not hear Bill's voice again, booming out to us "This is the day that the Lord hath made..." and we will not call back to him, "Let us rejoice and be glad in it..." I cry a little every time I think of it. Of him. Of Connie, left behind. Bill died last night, a few minutes after seven. I cried again, when it was confirmed, although, at that point, it was not unexpected.
As we were pulling out of the driveway to get a few things to pack in lunches, a four wheel drive pulled in. We were delighted to see our bearded buddy Rae. We kidnapped him and we all went downtown for the groceries, came back home for an impromptu cookout on the back deck, and we blabbed as if we hadn't seen him since the New Year. Mostly, I think because we hadn't seen the coot since the New Year. That was nice to catch up with him.
I picked some blueberries, and the neighbor dog picked a few from the lower branches for himself, smacking his lips appreciatively. Probably better than the tin foil he pulled off the grill and ate after our cookout last week.
It was a quiet weekend. I can't say it was a great weekend, because we lost a good friend. I can't say it was a bad weekend, because it was full of planning, and handholding and spending time with my husband. Time spent laughing with a friend. Time spent crying with my friends. Like it or not, life and death...well. You can't have one without the other.