I'm ready for a little less somber atmosphere, but at times you have to feel. Let everything that goes along with life sink in. I'm still working through the emotions around Liam's death. Bear with me, I'll see the moon soon.
You all know our usual weekend activities include hanging out in the front yard and working on projects.
Those weekends working out in the yard were filled with small breaks when we'd sit and chat with the neighbors that live in the house that peeks out every once in a while in the pictures.
Two guys live there, divorcees, room mates. Good guys, respectful and kind. The type of rarity you can call on when you need a little help, ones that smile and wave and say hello. They'd sit on their front porch and hang out with friends; lots of friends that would stop by and chat, swap stories. The group of 'em made up the Matthews Country Club, an unofficial, tongue-in-cheek description of how they enjoyed living.
The country club has an appeal that extends beyond male bonding. Whenever Bill Murray gets the chance he bolts through the gate and runs straight for their porch to hang out with the guys, especially Randy. That dog loves him some Randy.
Randy was a good guy; life dealt him some hard blows these past couple years. He still smiled with warmth, waved a giant hello and shouted "Hey neighbor!" across the field and driveway. Telling Mabel she made his day when she'd give him a shy and playful smile. She made him work for those smiles, and he loved trying to get one from her.
Yesterday, when Kevin went home for lunch, he found Randy. Maybe he'd had a heart attack, we don't know. Kevin came over as I was unbuckling Mabel from the car, shaking his head. He said, "It's not good." Just like that, gone with a whisper.
We haven't told Bill Murray yet, I can't imagine how confused he'll be when he can't jump up in Randy's lap in order to wedge himself between his favorite person and the arm of his favorite person's favorite chair.