In the confusion called ‘Moving,’ death struck.
Brothers Mike and Dave have worked for us ever since we moved into River House. Now they’re working for us at our new home, which doesn’t really have a name yet. They’ve been staining and installing special baseboard and are about to move on to our custom closets. And our custom towel racks. If we look good, decoratively speaking, it’s because of them.
Except Dave and his Linda must attend a funeral this coming Monday and work will stop. Their nominal grandson died yesterday of H1N1. He was ten. At first, when the child was hospitalized he seemed to improve. Yet suddenly, yesterday, he took a turn for the worst. In a matter of hours, he wasn’t breathing on his own. And, in the end, even breathing with a ventilator didn’t stop the child’s decline. It was left to the mother to make the final decision.
Who knows what Grandpa Dave was doing at that very moment? I only know he was working in the new condo and received various calls on his cellphone. Then he alerted us to a possible change in his availability. Both Earl and I were saddened, even though we don’t know the extended family at all. It’s just that no parents (or grandparents, for that matter) should have to bury their children.
Even though we’re on a deadline to be out of our old house, this takes priority. So what if the closets don’t get done on time? In the grand scheme of things people are far more important than custom closets or baseboards or towel racks.
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