Dennis

He was our neighbor when we first moved in to the house on Gladhill. He was the only one we got along with really well. His son was a cute teenager when I was still in elementary school, and his daughter was exactly who I wanted to be when I grew up--blonde, toned, athletic, smart, and beautiful.

He was also our tax guy. Even after he'd divorced his wife, remarried, and moved almost every year, we'd travel across Southern California every February or March to have him do our taxes and recap on the year in review.

He died Saturday.

I feel so helpless. He wasn't a Christian. Unless there was some drastic change in his life over the past year, his fate is sealed. I came in contact with him every year. I could have done something, I keep telling myself, I could have done something.

Not if it wasn't in His plan, though.


I am reminded of the importance of His will above all else.

If your song leaves our lips
If your work leaves our hands
Then we will be wonders and vagabonds
They will stare and say how empty we are
How the freedom we had turned us up as dead men

Too Bright to See, Too Loud to Hear--Underoath