|James' work - my closet.|
But the moment I saw him I knew it could go well, and when he spoke I was sure, so I told him about all three rooms—all the work and he was happy to do it all. So, for the past month he has spent many days — all days or partials — here with me.
We got along really well and he did good work. He kept every promise and was totally straight forward about everything. He was the perfect finishing carpenter, so I was surprised when a few days went by with no word. So I sent an email and yesterday his wife called to tell me James had died.
My closet was his last job. Now, every time I go there I am sad but I wonder … is he listening to Robin Williams somewhere?