I forget what the longer version of Lorrie's name is. I've just known him as Lorrie Brown for the past six years. His wife Bettie used to work at my office. She was the bookkeeper. She retired about three years ago.

Bettie and Lorrie were the sort of couple that you find everywhere, but can't help but still marvel at. They were married for 53 years, and whenever they would show up at office functions, you could tell how close they were. In fact, they were never more than ten feet apart. It wasn't insecurity though. Both of them had a charm and a confidence that made it apparent they were comfortable in their own skins. They were easy conversationalists, talking about their farm, or their winter home in Florida, or their grandchildren. Bettie was the taller of the two of them, but neither of them seemed to be in charge of things.

The last time I saw Lorrie was this summer at the send off for my former boss, Kate. I remember that he mentioned having seen his doctor about heart problems. He seemed healthy enough; laughing and joking, and of course never standing further than ten feet away from his wife.

He passed away on December 1 in Florida. I feel sad for Bettie of course. I don't feel sorry though. 73 years is a pretty good run, and from all accounts he led a pretty good life. He didn't have a funeral. Instead there was a get together of the people who knew him, and who talked about all the good times they had. It was what he wanted.