Farewell

Doug Walter, who moved across the street from me when he was in sixth grade, was my blood brother. In a more innocent time, before people started donning gloves before picking up a bleeding child, Doug, John Chesley, Shelley Fisher, and I sliced our fingers and bled into each other’s lives.

Doug Walter was my brother in faith. Before we knew it was less-than-holy to enjoy the Lord’s Supper apart from the church, we shared Communion in his living room one New Year’s Eve.

Doug played the role of big brother for me. He moved from Hampton to Wooster, Ohio, after he graduated from high school. Since I went to college there, I still saw Doug’s family even when he was off in the service. When Doug was home on leave and learned that I was dating someone from Wooster, he showed up at my future husband’s house in uniform. He took Chuck out to eat and firmly told him that, if he broke my heart, he’d have to tangle with an armed soldier.

One day, Doug’s yard on Green Valley Drive developed a sinkhole. From Harts Run Road, the ground opened up swallowing more and more of Doug’s yard. Doug is gone, and we stagger, witless, around the sinkhole.