Sad

It's a cold grey day here in Ypsilanti. That seems suitable, given the incredible sadness of the day.

I woke up to the sound of the phone in the dark .. .that's never good.

It was my dear friend, Shelley. Her beloved Al had died in his sleep. The poor kid was in shock. I immediately went to her. I can't make it better, but I can be there. That's all anyone can do.

It's been a hard day.

Al was larger than life. A storyteller of the first order, a musician with a voice like velvet, and a world class curmudgeon. A visit with him was always extremely entertaining, and reading one of his blistering essays in the newspaper or in an e-mail always left me in awe of his talent with the language. It's so hard, even though I saw them take his body away, for me to realize that Al won't be over for dinner next week. Al will never be over for dinner again. It's hard to understand, but it's also deeply sad. The world is a poorer place without Al.

The service is Thursday. I usually officiate at a funeral about once a year. This is the last one I could have foreseen and the certainly last one I would have wanted to have to do. But I will -- for Al, and for my dear, sweet Shelley. I wish it wasn't time yet -- but I am honoured to be asked.