Just gotta unload a little tonight, I guess…
I got a call yesterday from the daughter of one of my seminary buds, telling me the shocking news that her dad had died suddenly, from an apparent heart attack. Bummer! Anyway, she was calling to ask if I could and would participate in her dad’s funeral service, tentatively scheduled for “sometime this week, probably Saturday.”
“Sure,” I replied. “I’d be honored to be a part of it, etc. etc.”
Well, tonight, she called back to let me know that the service is actually going to be Sunday, at 2:00 p.m. I hate being the bad guy, but there’s no way I could be at my place Sunday morning, and then make a 6-1/2 hour drive to be there. I hate it, I told her I hated it, but there’s really no way around it.
So then why do I feel like such a heel?