Hear it Beating

Ken, Briggs, and I went to a wake tonight.

The father of a dear friend did pass gently into that goodnight this past weekend, after having lived a truly long and fruitful life deeply rooted in family and service.

Though, to call the man who lost his Dad a friend isn’t quite right.

This man, and my Dad, Bob have been connected since high school.  In fact they’ve known each other longer than they’ve known their wives or any of us kids.  His family, ours, and the families of three other gentlemen who’ve been running together since back in the day, have all been stitched and woven together through the decades.

No matter last names or bloodlines.  It’s all just family now.

And it’s apparent.  Especially on a night like this.  When one has suffered such great loss.

There is an ease and peace to the reconvening.  Amongst the “framilies” enough food is provided for days of comfort eating.  Bars are stocked for toasting.  Someone puts the Bruins on for normalcy.

The tired and the grieving are given permission to sit, eat, cry, laugh, sleep, and rest assured that the leftovers will be wrapped and the counters washed down.  And we will see each other, soon, at services tomorrow morning in fact…

The rhythm of family is so clear, I can actually hear it beating.  And it’s obvious the only instrument required to keep it playing, is Love.



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