And then...

Like a rain cloud that hangs heavy and threatening, before finally opening up and letting the drops pour down; the realization of what had occurred the night before began to descend upon us Saturday morning.

There was a text message from Vanessa, in England, sent at 4:41 am, sending her condolences and love. That made it all so real, and emotions were stirred.

Very quickly the day started. People coming, bringing food and flowers; hugs and tears. It was not easy to say, or to talk about.

Chris and Ben rebuilt the cobblestones on the front walk, I swept away sheetrock dust to make room for the abundance of flowers in the bay window. We arranged chairs, a place for people to gather. The fridge was delivered (thankfully). So many details were noticed - the note Dad had left about the fridge delivery, his paint samples and handwritten details, the tiny cutouts of Sorens, his suit and the sprinkler clock in the Audi - right where he'd left them.

There was an obituary to write. It seemed so soon, and so surreal, to be summing up an entire life just like that.

Late that night, something made me wonder, as he slept did he see a light and follow it? Did something beckon to him to come? Was it a choice he made to go? Was it like leaving weakness for strength? I don't know, but I felt peace.