He has always been the fun dad. You know the one. You look around at the party, and after seeking high, you find him low... in the midst of a crowd of little ones. If there is a pool, he is the one tossing them higher than they should fly. And if there is a blazing camp fire, there he sits, enthralling them with tales of the Headless Orange-Picker (you many not have heard of him, he is an original.) So it wasn't a big surprise to me when he headed out, with the guys, to a kids tree house in a friend's backyard.
I almost shouted a warning, then didn't.
As he walked up the slide, second thoughts popped into his head, then out again.
Our friend was supposed to ride the zip-line next, but let Eric cut in front of him.
Even as he was lying there in the pine needles, I knew this was part of the plan. There was pain, yes... but his toes were moving. He gasped for breath, but spoke through the lack of it. Even as he was lying there, waiting for the ambulance, I could feel His Grace... and I thanked Him for it. There was a peace that passed all understanding.
I probably could've driven myself behind the ambulance... but friends don't let friends drive in a state of the unknown. Nor do they let you wait, alone, in the emergency room on a Saturday night.
to be continued...