Death comes in threes.
Grandma Joyce died last month.
This week, Tuesday, Matt's great uncle Des died from an infection. He was a stud.
The very next day, Matt's OTHER grandma, very nice and kind Lila in Canada, died.
He goes to Canada on Thursday. They had to push the funeral back so that those going to Des's funeral could get to Canada for Grandma Lila's.
Sheesh.
I remember several years ago a young mother we knew was sick in the bed for reasons that were never figured out. I felt strongly prompted to go to her home and clean it really really nice. She had a husband and four little ones. And no clean undies.
That Saturday, my buddy Sheri and I cleaned and cleaned. It was a disaster, as you can imagine it would be with five males who could not keep up. I remember when we were done her husband carried her through the house. She was so happy. "Now I can die," she said. "The house is clean and I have clean garments."
What a silly thing to say, we said.
She died two days later. With a clean house and in her clean underwear.
I recently read about a young bull rider named Cody who was dying of leukemia. A story in the newspaper told how he had a crush on the world champion barrel racer, Lindsay Sears. When she heard about Cody, she rushed from Texas to visit him in hospice. They talked about horses, rodeos and things that cowboys love.
She stayed for a couple days, and when he took his nap Friday, his parents said she had done so much. His "house" was clean, and he had his clean "underwear." He died Saturday evening.
God bless those who have the courage to visit the dying.
