I was having difficulty contacting a dear friend of my mom’s. Turns out he’d been in the hospital since Thanksgiving and was about to undergo surgery.
I let him know about mom and asked if he wouldn’t mind a visitor. He was (I think) delighted, but not prepared for the grizzled, salt and pepper bearded son I had become.
We caught up for a good spell. This, the man who my parents let drive me and my brothers two hours to see Pink Floyd in 1987.
His thoughts on passing beyond the physical realm filled me with hope and aligned with some of my own thinking.