I am pretty sure I was talking to some good friends today, I mean I know they’re friends, but sometimes I just talk when people I know are standing around. Then again sometimes they talk and I just unknowingly nod my head occasionally. But I was really listening, and their words carried sincerity. I could tell because their eyes and body language, even their breathing was in sync with what was being said. The effect was to add a depth to the spoken word that must be experienced through personal contact. There was conversion about what had changed since we’d last seen each other. What was new. Talking about what was new had taken on a whole new dimension than in times past. It’s similar to picking up the OBITS. A good day is no news, nothing changed. Maybe change has always brought endings, but in the past, there seemed to more of a balance with opportunities. This was more like the goodbyes when you don’t think it’s coming back. It’s gone. I don’t know if anybody else thinks about this scene this way, but I think of the Garden of Gethsemane as the saddest goodbye ever. The classic turning point in the story where it turns tragic. Praying things could be different, knowing and accepting they can’t. Surely everyone can feel his despair, courage and resolve. No, wait they are sleeping, poor little guys are tired. After all, Palm Sunday was pretty exciting, an eventful few days. I wonder how many times I have slept through someone’s hour of loneliness. Please wake me up.