If one more person tells me "It was his time" I think I'm going to go postal on them. Even two years out, I hate that sentiment.
But they are right. It was his time.
It was his time to start a family. To watch his children grow.
It was his time to buy a house, to build a home.
It was his time to develop a career. To do what he loved. To make his mark on the world.
It was his time to kiss his wife in the rain. Cuddle on the couch. Feel the love.
It was his time to train his dang dog to piss in the yard.
It was his time to blow out the candles on his cake. And his wife's cake. And his son's.
It was his time to fix the leaky faucet. The broken fence. The sticking window.
It was his time to cook suppers - at least once a week.
It was his time to mow the lawn. Pull the weeds. Plant the flowers.
It was his time to smile until his cheeks hurt. Laugh until his gut ached.
It was his time to travel. To see the world.
It was his time to relish all he had. Be happy with what he was finally given.
It was his time to be proud with who he was. What he had become.
It was not his time to die.....
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