He was with his family.
His wife, who he said he loved more than life itself, sat by his side.
He had a good death.
Because he enjoyed rock and roll, a lot of music played during his final days at home. Several years from turning fifty, he was young. In those last moments, in those last breaths, there was one particular song that . . .
But I’m getting ahead of the story. It’s a story with a sad ending because a young man dies. It’s also a story with a good enough ending, because of those four opening sentences. How I wish everyone’s death (old or young, rich or poor) had some version of those simple, blessed opening sentences. That won’t happen. Some deaths are hard. Some deaths strip a person or family from any opportunity to prepare or plan. Sometimes we deny impending death and then find ourselves grieving not just the person, but our own blindness or stubbornness. Read More →by