During the first big snowstorm after Andy was buried I drove down to Cushing figuring the storm would keep most people off the roads. I wanted some time alone with him in this, my first visit with him.
It was quiet - very, very quiet - down there at Olson’s that day, exactly what I was after. On the front door someone had hung a wreath with a black ribbon woven through it. I was melancholy about losing Andy but also highly energized by being with him on such a perfectly private day.
The last time I had been in the house was with Andy and I had sworn to never go inside again – nor, since his death, any of his private places – but, alone in the snow that day, I was in deep communion.
I walked downhill to the old Olson family cemetery and there was Andy, lying close to Christina. It was so perfectly Andy to be here with her….so many threads of his life led to this place and moment.
Andy met Christina the day he first met seventeen year-old Betsy Merle James. Within an hour of meeting, Betsy took Andy to meet her special friend, Christina, and that first day laid the course of the rest of their long life together. I simply cannot think of this story, which I do often, without wonder at the magic of destiny bringing these two - no, three - people together for all time.