Well it isn't that I have been slacking off so much here...We left for a nice little camping vacation last Friday. On Saturday my dad phoned to let us know that my brother (in-law) Charlie had died suddenly of a heart attack. He was forty-seven. He was running in a ten mile race that morning with his daughter and my sister. He left this earth at the eighth mile from what I'm understanding. It is so hard to believe. He was in great shape when we saw him last month. He looked like a runner. You know how the really serious runners have that super lean, zero percent body fat look? That's how he looked. I have my crying spells. I talk to him. I have what I think are the normal feelings others have in these situations. I am not sure. I feel sad that I didn't.....(fill in all the spaces)....more often. I feel sad I didn't think about what a great guy he was. We take so much for granted when it comes to family. Anyone close to us really. How hard is it to think about each other? To say something? To do something? We treat our co-workers with more affection and respect sometimes. Not that they don't deserve it. The crazy thing was that on the way up north on Friday, I was thinking about how much time I will have as a mother when we ever get linked with a birth mother (we are in the waiting stage of the adoption process). And all my calculations were based on me not even being to the "top of the hill." But we never can know. Charlie was a dynamo. The man did not sit still for very long. He was always doing something. He accomplished so much. In comparison, I am ashamed of the time I have wasted in contemplation over things I think I want to do. I vow to try harder. My sweet husband makes lists. Maybe I'll try that.
