I know that sounds unchristian of me and I can't imagine a man like Bill not being welcomed in Heaven, but I swear if I thought he was in hell I would think of something really bad to do and not repent. I am waiting now for lightening to strike. It wouldn't be the first time.
Ironically, I love storms. I love the wind and the charged ions in the air. I love the dark, swirling clouds, the majesty of nature. I love the rain, but don't like it driving into my face. I want to be able to see.
Bill's death was something like that. A force of nature was in play and I could do nothing but watch heartbroken, helpless and horrified as the storm played out.
I don't like helpless, not at all and it's not a feeling I'm used to.
I thought I was tough, a force to be reckoned with. Now I realize it's easy to be tough when you have a 6'2", 200+ plus man who has your back no matter what. I'm having a hard time making even the most mundane decisions without him which is odd considering I thought I ran the show around here. I guess I didn't. I guess in his own quiet, loving way he led me in the right direction.
Bill had a wise old saying for every situation. My country boy had a way of putting things in perspective with a sentence or two. My mind continually asks him what should I do? Today this is his answer:
"If you want to run with the big dogs, you have to learn to pee in the tall grass."
I don't want to run with the big dogs and I'm to short to pee in the tall grass. I'll get a wet ass and I have enough problems. I can almost feel the warmth of his smile. All right, I'll try and pee in the tall grass, but I'm not going to like it. Not one bit!