This makes twice in a year. First Amy, now Indigo … both have lost their fathers. That’s just about where the similarities end, though: Amy’s dad did decline pretty quickly, but they knew it was coming; Indigo’s father died quite suddenly, shockingly. I’ve sat many a times at Amy’s dinner table; I didn’t bother to look to see how close I was to Indigo’s when I was in Hagerstown back in October on my way to Jersey.
But still, I’m at a loss for words. For someone as patently verbose [and ramblingly so] as I, that’s an odd place to be.
Guess my job is to listen, again.