It was a hard days day (and night)

I recently spent the day with my college friend, Bill Petit, about whom I wrote in my very first post on this blog (see below, July 30, 2007 post). Bill has endured nine months of hell on earth since the unfathomable tragedy that befell he and his family on July 23, 2007. Bill is a hero to me. He gets up each day and finds a way to make it through. He is not yet OK...or as he says it: he has "ok days and horrible nights."

It is hard. Very, very hard. Yet on a warm spring day in march, in San Antonio the day of the NCAA men's basketball championship game between Kansas and Memphis, Bill took time out to be with me. We talked. We shared. We reminisced. We laughed. We cried. He may have thought of it as me spending time with him. Before I got there, so did I. But when I left, and looking back on it, it really was Bill spending time with me. It was hard for Bill. A hard days day. But he graciously and unselfishly poured out his heart that day to me.

I still think about that day. Every day.