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I'm sad today.

Yesterday, the day after Thanksgiving in the U.S., my friend Dave died. It was two days after a plane crashed into the Superstition Mountain where I have hiked. I still have other friends named Dave, but that doesn't seem to help.

This morning I woke up with a dream. Three years ago our old dog, Charcoal, decided it was time to die, so one morning, at the cabin, she just disappeared. Wise dog! In the dream, I was at the farm, 30 miles from the cabin, and I spied Charcoal walking in the woods. I went to her, picked her up and she said, "Well, it's taken a while, but I finally made it home". I'm wondring if death is like that? And so I turn to a book by Stephen Levine and quote him when he spoke of death he said, "It's like taking off a shoe that was too tight".

But I am still sad.

I look across the street at Dave's house and know I won't hear his voice again. We won't be able to give each other a hard time. We won't have more conversations about topics most men don't talk about. Dave and I could.

Yes, in my head, I know we all will die; but when a younger, loved friend does, it brings me sadness. Along with a wake up call. To wake up and appreciate the life I'm still lliving.

To be thankful for the family and friends I have.

To treat all people, even the folks with whom I disagree, with tolerance.

Dave would like that, I think.
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