My neighbor, James Woods, died this morning. The police found him dead in his chair, on Sunday, a day he loves so much.
He lived two doors down from me, and had been in-the-hospital sick the last week, so it really doesn't surprise me, but James was exactly my age, he was 65.
When someone dies and they are my age, I get worried. I will say that James was responsible for moving my piano into my home, and for that I will be forever grateful. I paid him $20 and his friend $20 to load it onto a dolly and get it into my apartment from the fifth floor.
Anyway, I know James is in heaven with the Lord now, and God is telling him what a good guy he is, and his family, although they are crying, will eventually rejoice in knowing he is at rest and at peace. My entire floor will be in mourning this week, just because James was so lively, and he was not one you could ignore. He insisted you speak to him every time you passed him, and if you didn't, you were in trouble.
As for me, I stay in trouble, don't you? I wish James the light of God's peace forever and ever. Amen!
You, too, Lambchop,
Peace,
Kimmy
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