Earlier this summer I wrote this post
about a trip to a ranch in the Carson River Valley. The name of the man who owned the ranch I wrote about was Daniel. I don't know his age but I would have guessed it to be early 50's, and he had that healthy look of a man who doesn't mind working outdoors. I knew him through a co-worker of mine who was his significant other. She got us together because she knew that we shared a lot of common interests. Although I never got to know him well, Daniel was obviously a good man who had great love and respect for his land and for the people around him. He tried to convince me to volunteer for an organization that he worked for, an organization that helped low-income people and families build and own their own homes. I'm ashamed to say that I don't remember the name of the organization--although I promised him I would get around to volunteering my time, I always found excuses not to.
Today Ruby, Daniel's girlfriend, told me that Daniel had passed away unexpectedly from a heart attack. Perhaps it wouldn't have made any difference to anyone in the long run, but tonight I find myself wishing more than anything that I hadn't been too busy to help out.