My father died many years ago. I miss him.

I miss his wry sense of humor, his complete acceptance of the curious traits of everyone he met. I never heard him use an unkind word about or to anyone; but for one exception, his voice was naturally calm at all times.

After his stroke in 1972, he had difficulty in coordinating the use of his hands. This new experience held many surprises for my father and for the rest of our family as he learned once again to do the things that had always been taken for granted.

He and Mother met during the depression of the Thirties. Though they prospered during these times they learned to respect the gifts of life; they saw how easily the possessions, which helped to make one’s days enjoyable, could be suddenly missing in the blink of an eye. (Mother eventually left life in…

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