Nine months ago today we were keeping vigil with Bob as he lay dying. (It was also a Tuesday.) By late afternoon, the vigil was over. Bob had taken his last breath and I was left to go on without him.
Last night as I was coming down Llama Road, finishing my walk, I "saw Bob." He was about a third of a mile ahead of me, striding along Millicent Rogers Road. My head knew the man I was watching walk away from me was not Bob, but my eyes and my heart saw Bob anyway. He was wearing his tan hat--the one he always called his "pork pie"--and his tan long-sleeve polo shirt. The sight of him caught at my heart. I froze in my tracks and stood watching "Bob" grow smaller and smaller as he continued walking north, away from me. And then I cried. I just cried.
