Holding Bob

The death of a good man.

Bob at his birthday. ©nicholas J 2015

I have not been ready to write about this, and it’s been a while now. But it occurred to me that I’ve told the story, here and there in snippets, and it, the story, is more important than the scraps of it I’ve let slip. But now I will tell you about that time I held a man who was dying. His name was Bob.

The details of the evening flit through my mind against a constant black backdrop like…