Last night as we finished up the eighth hole on the course, my foursome stopped to take a close look at the memorial that had been set up for her – a carved out tree stump that housed her bag and clubs along with a simple plaque. Some admirers had left tokens of tees or balls, and I was proud to add mine to the collection.
I am by far not a good golfer. In fact, I am among the worst in the league. I have often asked myself why I keep coming back year after year, and the answer is always the same. It is because of the people who have touched my heart in special ways, offered support and encouragement, and who have helped me be a better person. And isn’t that the way life should be?
Here’s to you, B!