This is one of favorite photos of Martin. It happened to be in central Iceland when we spent some time there a few years ago. But the geography doesn't really matter. What matters is that he was in a desolate and beautiful place, going from one place to another, all alone.
I felt that the same thing was true yesterday morning when he died. The dog was lying on the floor beside the bed. I was sitting by his side. Rain was falling on the skylight above him. He had been with children and grandchildren who came and saw him over the weekend. But then it was just the two of us in a desolate and beautiful place from which he would go on alone.
May he rest in peace.