With a little help from my friends...
Sorry I didn't duck back in last week. Losing a loved one is tough. But you don't need me to tell you that.
Jenn and I visited my grandmother's grave after I had to cover the rodeo at Red Gate on Saturday night. I was glad to see nobody had stolen the flowers. The sun was setting. The tears flowed.
It's been that kind of week.
I'm seeking solace in the usual place -- music. Gospel. Elvis. Sinatra. Others.
And, darn it, I'm experiencing moderate-to-severe lower back pain. I think it's either a pinched nerve or sciatica. I have a history of both. I'll find out more tomorrow afternoon.
But enough of that.
Hey, you know what? No amount of money in the world can put a price tag on the value of friendship. I've been blessed with a host of friends. Too many to name. You know who you are.
My definition includes someone who sticks by you through thick and thin, who lifts you up, who kicks you in the butt when you need it, who lends a sympathetic ear, who doesn't just call when something is needed.
Mine have enriched my life. With my friends, I have laughed, cried, had more fun than should be legal. They are my rocks.
Maybe The Beatles said it best:
"I get by with a little help from my friends."