Last weekend, Ken's folks were down here, watching Kelly get baptized.
It filled their hearts with joy.
On their drive home, they took the long way, going up the coast, watching the waves, heading over the mountains, taking back roads, getting lost, rolling into their driveway early Saturday morning.
This morning, they did what they did every morning. They got up early, did their devotions, got ready, cleaned up, and then went for their morning 3-mile walk around the golf course.
And then they walked in the door, where dad promptly fell over.
Dead.
We will miss him desperately, but what a way to go. Instead of going to church this morning, Dad got to 'do church' with God himself.
I worry about Ken. He's the oldest son, and even though we live a thousand miles away, we're the closest geographically. There will be a lot of responsibility on his shoulders over these coming weeks.
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