missing ted

The old folk’s home was missing Ted tonight. He finally convinced his daughter he was capable of living on his own, and went home. After meeting Ted ten months ago, I wrote that he didn't belong there. His brother had been living at the home, but he passed away this winter.

Over the past year, we witnessed Ted lose a few steps and forget a little easier, and I'm not sure he should be on his own.

But I sense he's happier at home, where Kathy says he can work on carpentry projects and stay busy. Ted has become more than a man we met with every month, the stories he shared with us about his life have traveled continents, a catalyst to a greater story.

So, without Ted answering his cell phone call from his daughter, which happened every night like clockwork, we screeched out hymns as usual with the veterans: Dave, Lois and Hazel. I value the deep lyrics and reverence of old hymns, but the keys are largely inaccessible with wide vocal ranges. It creates an interesting mix for the ears.

That's when Korn turns to me and says, "Is this in the key of dog pitch?"

And I almost died laughing. Fighting back tears. Then Lois called Korn and I turkeys. But she smiled and said that life is about enjoying it; she's enjoyed every minute of hers.

Ted is enjoying his. And we should enjoy ours.