Before leaving for work, I got Bobby up and comfortably set up in "his chair" in the living room. His chair, was actually the blue recliner chair that had belonged to my Dad, when he was alive. I found it odd that after my Dad's passing, four months previous, and we brought his recliner into our living room, that Bobby began to sit it in more and more often. It pretty quickly became as much "Bobby's chair" as it had been "George's chair". Bobby loved my Dad and they always shared such interesting conservations when they visited. I treasure those memories.
I made sure he was comfortable and had everything that he might need, on the table next to the chair, while I was at work. I covered him with a patchwork quilt that sweet ladies from my Dad's church, had quilted for him. His body felt cold. I kissed him good bye and left.
I did not know that would be the last time I would ever back out of my driveway and drive away from my home, with my dear husband inside. There would be no warm, roaring fire in the fireplace to greet me when I came back home, ever again.
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