Well, Hurricane Owen is officially three.  Saturday was his little party with MY family, today was the party with Sweet-Hubby’s family.  Both were a success, and it was actually lovely to see everyone, and all relatively healthy for a change.

He got a new bike, a helmet, a motorized James for his Thomas the Tank Engine collection, money for his RESP, a new spring jacket, big boy underwear and a new housecoat.

Both dinners were a success, and my culinary skills have been proven intact.

I should be writing something much happier here, but there have been two deaths in my sphere of influence in the last three days, and I’m not feeling very happy.  One the father of a friend of my husband’s.  The friend I’m quite fond of, in spite of distance, and am very sorry for his loss.  I don’t know if I ever met the father, but it’s a loss all the same.

The other was the father of my oldest friend. 

And I’ve just found out.

He died this morning.

I don’t know what happened.

This was a man who, with his family, took me in and kept me for a while when I was between plans for where to go, and needed both a safe place to sleep, and little normal family time with people who still kind of liked me.  My life has been very much shaped by the kindness of strangers along the way, and there are at least a dozen people I call “Mom” or “Dad” out there in the world.

Some of them, I’m quite sure, saved my life without knowing it.  I’ve never forgotten any of them, even though it may have been a while since I’ve seen them, and have always tried to pass on what they gave to me, since that sort of thing is only repaid by giving it away to other strangers in need.

This is a loss that hits closer to home.  The friend in question has been my defacto big brother for as long as I can remember.

His dad was a good person, with a quick smile and a laugh you could hear from a mile away.

My heart hurts for my friend and his family tonight.

Both of them.

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