49

June 21st was hard enough. No, not that it marked another quarter year, the solstice and such, though I'm always mindful of that. It was Marie's High School graduation; the day dad had prayed he'd live to see (he would have been just shy of 88). The day that we certainly believed Ken would share with us. How proud they would have been to know that she's off to Notre Dame on a scholarship. Their lives were certainly a great part in her achieving what she has to date.

Today was my 49th birthday, though, and I could not help being consumed with thoughts of Ken. It was on his 49th birthday, here at home, that Ken, a month after surgery, and not long before chemo and radiation therapy began, that he prayed that he would see another birthday. Prayer seems to work when things go your way. If it doesn't, it's the will of God, or your lack of His grace. I have a big problem with that facile form of self-rationalizing faith. This does not, however, imply I don't believe.


PS The photos of Ken of his last birthday party are at 49 years plus 2 days.