I wish I had paid better attention to the stories that my dad told me.  I wish I had paid better attention to the stories Ken told as well.  But I didn't.  And when I find myself wanting to ask one of them a question, they aren't there.  And the stories are gone.  They both had the most interesting lives.   I can write about what I remember, but it only skims the surface.

I  wonder why I didn't pay better attention.  I think maybe because I didn't know at the time how much I had been blessed--because they were all I knew.  It's only in looking back that I am amazed at the exceptional lives they both led--in light of the people I have met along the way.  They were both truly exceptional people.  I took them both for granted. 

They loved each other.  My dad thought Ken hung the moon.  And visa versa.  My dad and mom were good friends of Ken's mom and dad, and they went to all of Ken's football games together when Ken was in high-school.  I don't know where I was.  With a baby sitter--my grandparents probably.  I was just starting first grade when Ken started the ninth grade.  I don't remember him.  I do remember his dad and mom because his dad was our pastor.  His dad baptized me.  And his mom was my Sunday School teacher. 

Through the years, as I have taught Bible classes of women, I have found out how horrible life can be for some people.  I have heard so many horror stories.  Not every woman got wonderful parents.  Or wonderful husbands.  Or perfect in-laws.

God has blessed me with a life full of wonderful people.  And as I have lived my life, I have become very aware of how exceptional they all were.  Many times, we don't know what we have until it is gone.  And of course, it is too late to tell them how much they meant in my life.  They are all gone.

I am missing both Ken and my dad today.  Really bad.  They sat around and told stories.  They treasured each other's company.  They were such good friends.