I approach today with sadness. Another empty chair at the table as a friend passed. The strange thing was that I passed the police officer, stopped, investigating his death, and I didn’t know that it was him. Jack was doing a good deed by shoveling snow at a church on Thursday for another person’s funeral on Friday when he had a fatal heart attack. I drove over Saturday, finished the job for him and spread salt. The (other) funeral had been delayed.
There are not that many people who live up in the high country on Arizona’s Mogollon Rim. Maybe fifty total. Now 49. He is survived by his wife of forty years, children and grandchildren. He’d worked on the railroad, had been a cowboy, horse wrangler, did a lot of those sorts of jobs as country people seem to do. When I moved into the White Wolf Mine, he came over and helped me horse the clothes dryer from the back of the trailer into the utility room. Jack was like that. He dropped everything he had to do in order to do for others.
It’s a small community, and the paramedic that responded to the church where he had been found was his best friend. I know him as well, and he is not taking it well.
Sic transit gloria mundi.
Friday, I cut wood.
Saturday, I burned a lot of it sitting in front of the fire, reading, snacking and blogging.