There was no Dodge Caravan the in the driveway the other day when I dropped by my parents' place to see if the old man, Pastor Bob Lott, wanted to go get some grub. He was there when I peeked my head in the door, but not for long. A friend from church would come by in a few minutes to whisk him off to a meeting. Dad tried to explain further. I waved him off. The truth is, I have never been happier not to have lunch with someone. It meant that his existence has finally returned to something approaching normal, and that his wife, children and friends can now get back to our regularly scheduled lives.
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