For many years where I may dwell

I went home and worked for the past week and a half. I talked to Amanda every day. He was sleepy and odd but chatty and personable — still very much himself. I was scheduled to fly back to Boston tomorrow.

Last night, though, around 4 a.m., something in Nurn’s status changed. He was more confused than usual. He was scared. An hour later, in the company of his wife and mine, he was dead. I missed saying goodbye by one day.

I’m at Las Vegas International now, flying back to Boston a day early. The funeral will be the same day as the opening of The Hermit Bird, outside of San Francisco. (I’ll provide further details here when I know them.)

I am sure that all this has a deeper significance. For the time being, I’m not going to think too much; I just need to get back to her as soon as possible. There’ll be plenty of time for thinking later.

At this moment, at this precise moment, I’m all right. I’m worried about Amanda.