Tuesday nights are my Pueblo night and this week was no different until we got word that a friend of ours from our softball days had passed away and his service was early this afternoon. The overnight was scrapped and I spent the morning attempting to work from home as the kids squealed and yelled and had a grand time. After lunch, Sarah and I headed over to say our goodbyes to a man who impacted the lives of many and died way too young. Seeing the number of people in attendance and the outpouring of support for his family was beautiful yet heartbreaking. He only had 32 years to make an impression on the world and he did a bang-up job. We reconnected with old friends, ate some delicious green chile, and reminisced on the man we lost.
After we got home, my parents came over to have dinner and help us with another parenting monument. Our little man was getting out of his crib and into his big boy bed. The bed can be a bunk bed, a trundle bed, or two separate beds. More importantly, it was my (and Matt's) bed growing up. Before that, it was my dad's (and probably various other Flick kids') bed when he was a child. The bed got set up, the 'rents left, and we put our kids to bed. This time, there was no crib wall to bend over. Our little dude is now a big boy.
Couple that with dropping off Mackenzie's shot record at her new Kindergarten and this daddy has had enough for the day.
So here I sit, yawning and wide eyed. I so desperately want to sleep and my mind's telling me no. But my body, my body's telling me yes.
Rest in peace, Stefan. See you on the other side.