Last week my sister asked if I would subject myself to any “forced family bonding,” this weekend, to which I agreed, but then Saturday when my dad called and told us that his wife passed away unexpectedly, within a few hours we had hopped in my truck and hit the interstate to Asheville, N.C.
You know what they say, “Everything happens for a reason.”
Pops is doing ok and just glad his girls are here. We’ve been cleaning up the place for him so he can feel comfortable again. Every morning we sit on the couch with our laptops and catch up on the news and gossip. He told me I need to start updating my website more often – “just a sentence or two everyday,” he said.
So, here I am. Yesterday my sister and I ran up and down the mountain road across the street from his house. It’s a mile up and a mile back and probably one of the steepest roads on Earth.
“The deep pain that is felt at the death of every friendly soul arise from the feeling that there is in every individual something which is inexpressible, peculiar to him alone, and is, therefore, absolutely and irretrievably lost” – Arthur Schopenhauer