I’m not 10 anymore. I’m 53, and my heroes are dying. … Yesterdays are to be cherished. Yesterday, we didn’t know Tom Seaver was dead.
Forty-six years ago I was 7. We were back in Lynchburg – but not on the ridge, running around the tobacco fields, berry patches, gardens, and hayloft. My mom was home to bury her dad.
Darold Neal went out the way he lived – showing love, for his family, for his school, for everyone who knew him. And we are better people because he passed through our lives.
After I left the hospital, my pulmonologist, Dr. Matthew Prout, put a 5-year clock in my head. It has reached 00:00. I survived. Here’s to life — yours and mine.
No parent is ready to lose a child. What the hell are you supposed to say? “Like” a social media post. “Love” another photo. “Thoughts and prayers” sounds hollow when I cannot fathom the pain.