A Year Ago Today

A year ago today the end was really coming.

Not like a high speed train. It was more like a big, old, heavy freight car, chugging along packed with years of life and hope and surgery and fear and radiation and weddings and children and living and hospitals and soccer games and chili-fests and super bowls and chemotherapy and skiiing and all the cargo that fills up 42 years of life.

It was pulling into the station which was its final destination.

The culmination of 42 years (18 with tumor ) was five days away (really six if you count actual dates because the arrival time — really his departure time — was in the wee hours of what technically was the sixth day from this day today, a year ago).

But who’s counting?