He died last night, fell off the side of his bed, tipped a lamp over and died on the floor. He was an old man, from the looks of things lived a simple life. His possessions were few, modest furniture, not a lot of clothes, just the necessities. We stood there after pronouncing him dead and waited for the police Sergeant, five of us, strangers to the dead man, talking about our weekend, our kids, our future.
His grandson arrived, walked past us and kneeled by his grandfathers side, sobbing.
Another grandson ran into the room and joined them next to the bed. The phone rang, another family member entered the room. The police arrived, we backed out. As we were leaving I saw another young man running toward the house, frantic.
He may not have had many worldly possessions, but from the look of the people he left behind, he knew how to live.