What an emotional day.
My 17-year-old and I were up early to get him to his soccer game. His team lost, 0-1. In the process, they may have lost their chance at a league championship. We'll find out tomorrow.
Later on, he, his younger brother, their Mom and I went to greet my youngest daughter, back from her two-week outdoor adventure on the north coast.
She looked so lovely as we first glimpsed her and her new friends, back from two weeks of backpacking, rock-climbing, and sea-kayaking.
As one of the counselors read a tribute to how great she was on the trip, I felt proud of her once again, like I always am.
We all had a nice dinner and then got some sad news.
One of the dogs all three kids have been walking around Bernal for years, Mandela, had to be "put down" today.
Lately, it's been my youngest son who has cared for these dogs, and he has told me over and over how sad it makes him to see how Mandela has been failing. He has carried her up and down the stairs to start and finish their walks. She has been too scared to go anywhere.
It's a fact of old age. Life gets very scary when you know you are close to dying. No difference, dog or human.
I'm so sad for my son tonight. It seems like he has had way too many burdens, including his friend's suicide last year. I hope he can somehow accept that death is part of life.
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