A death puts a hole in your life where all the conversation and love used to be. It's Friday night, used to be pizza night on Tod St and often one of those British mysteries some Knodes seem to like. It seems like every day there's a point where I want to call and tell Jan something. And I can't. She may be looking down or over my shoulder but I can't tell. It sure does leave a big hole in my life.
I feel that hole, too. It was odd when her mother, my grandmother, died. And it's odd now.
ReplyDelete