... and Goodbye.

When my mother died so suddenly, nearly eight years ago, my father was (as you might imagine) left adrift. After all, they had been together since high school, and married for over 38 years. However, over and above his devotion to Mom, and the ache he felt with losing her, he is not the sort of person to be happy all by himself. So we were not surprised when he started occasionally going out with one "ladyfriend" or another.

A longtime friend of his died that same summer. Dad and Dick had worked at the mill together for nearly 30 years, and the four of them (Mom & Dad, Dick and Pat) had been friends for almost that long. Dinners out, and hunting trips, and various events with the Jacksons had punctuated our lives for as long as any of us kids could remember. So it seemed very natural when the two of them who remained started spending time together, each enjoying the company of an old friend who understood.

A couple years later, the two old friends got married. And we were thrilled for them. Pat was a cheerful, kind, sensitive woman, and a joy to be around.

This week, Pat lost a battle with cancer. She died on Monday, peacefully, in her sleep. We are grateful for her life, and for the gifts that she so generously shared with my father, and with everyone who knew her.

I know it's Lent, and the "A word" is normally not part of our vocabulary at this time of penitential introspection; but hers was a faithful life, well-lived, and so all I can think of is this line from our burial rites:

Even as we go to the grave, we make our song, Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.