This afternoon, I drove Barbara and Kelli to Forsyth to the Monroe County Memorial Chapel so they could deal with the various things necessary when one dies—death certificate, obituary, social security, veteran affairs, the bill, and last but not least, pick up Roger’s cremains. I couldn’t help but notice that the funeral director gave them to me, not Barbara, and I was thankful he did. There is simply no way she could have prepared for that experience. The person she had known and loved, who fathered her children, who earned the bread, who loved her like no other, who knew her better than any other is suddenly reduced to a small container of ashes. Words are inadequate. Trust me on this one. I handed the container to Kelli, and then, as Barbara sat down in my vehicle, she handed it to her. Words continue to be inadequate. Strange? Out of the ordinary?  Out of her comfort zone? Sacred? Holy? Precious? Breath-taking? None are really adequate. Life as Barbara has known it for so many years will never be the same; however, it will continue and Roger would want her to LIVE—really LIVE. I am certain of that! Now, we move on toward Saturday afternoon at three o’clock. The journey has been a long one—hard, sweet, precious, difficult, bitter, joyous, sad, fulfilling, and, certainly, maturing.

Now unto Him who is able to keep you from stumbling, and to make you stand in the presence of His glory blameless with great joy, to the only God our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen (Jude 24-25).