I went to the funeral today of a man who on the first day I met him invited me and my family to his house for lunch, and that same afternoon, when I asked, described to me the disease that was killing him. It was hard for me not to cry when I saw the bowed heads of his grandchildren in the pew and when my father's voice from the pulpit began to swim with emotion. It's not fair, but I'm beginning to see that justice isn't heavy-handed.
The rest of today was sweet and in love. The fireflies in the fields beyond the firepit, the burning bench and the burning smile. Meatballs for lunch and pizza for dinner. Time in between for mourning and piano chords and snuggling flush into a pair of strong arms until the heartbeats speed and slow down and duet.
I felt so much bleeding-out affection today. I am so lucky to be here--HERE--with such promise and s'mores and a shrinking (shrunk!) tumor. It's life.
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