A week or so ago, a new neighbor to our left came over and asked SWMBO if she would come over to witness her signature on some kind of paper. It turned out to be permission for a hospice to offer care to the lady's father. Dad was in a recliner of sorts hooked up to oxygen and not looking well.
A day or so later, I was picking up my mail and saw the lady sitting outside and went over to say hello. As I neared her I saw that she was sobbing, with tears running down her face. She told me her father had just died.
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This morning, I noticed a large group of people and cars at a house on the other side of our house. Later, when the crowd had thinned but a young woman was outside, I walked over and asked her if something bad had happened. She told me her father had died in his sleep only a few hours ago.
I had just spoken to him last night as I was checking the sky for clouds and a nice sunset. He was sitting outside his home and waved and seemed fine. He was a nice man and we'll miss him.
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But, as SWMBO said: maybe we should get out of town for awhile. And a friend who I told the story this afternoon said that might not be a bad idea and raised the myth of threes. Well, I know that happens with celebrities and people in the news. If two die, a third one follows shortly. But I'm not superstitious or worried.
If you don't hear from me for awhile . . . .