It occured to me today that we all know we are going to die someday, but we usually don’t think too much about it. We just expect that we will get to grow old and pass with our grandchildren at our bedside. Much to my mother’s dismay in 1998 I decided I wanted to be a police officer….I’ll never forget my first day as a Deputy Sheriff recruit, it was an eye opening experience to say the least. The first day is paperwork day. In that pile of paperwork is one form that really hits you in the face, that single piece of paper that would be folded, put into an envelope marked “confidential” and kept at the communications center, let‘s call it the “just in case form“. For those of you not in law enforcement, this form asks you questions like who you want to deliver the news to your family in the event of an accident or your death. My family knew that if the Sheriff came walking up the path, it wasn’t going to be good news. The form, also asks you what kind of funeral you’d like to have and where you want to have it, do you want a full police burial, or “other, please describe“. That’s probably the first time I ever considered that my life could be cut shorter than I expected, but outside of being taken care of should I died in the line of duty, I’ve never given much consideration as to where or how I want to be buried and as I would come to find out, neither has Dave. Today, however, we are making those arrangements, not for ourselves, but for our baby, it just doesn’t seem fair. Instead of planning for college, we’re picking out cemetery plots and talking about headstones. Putting pictures and music together so that when the time comes, we have everything in place. I occasionally wake up in the morning able to remember a dream where Kaleb is running and playing and he has the most beautiful voice, it seems so real that I sometimes think that it is - then I remember - but I still rejoice each morning because when I woke, so did Kaleb.