8 Nov

My thumb and finger have healed as much as they are going to.  My thumb sports a permanent dent, and my finger features a ragged but still impressive scar.

My brothers and I emptied Mom’s garage of the rest of Dad’s stuff, mainly odds and ends of wood, fasteners, and other things too valuable for him to throw away but too small to be useful.  I brought home sandpaper, a few tools, and some of his desk things.  No one wanted his desk things, but I think they are too valuable to just throw away because they are part of who he was.  They are cluttering up our house instead of Mom’s garage, and that’s fine with me.

Dylan died this summer.  He participated in graduation and earned a diploma.  Cancer finally claimed him in July but not without a fight.  Dylan never thought giving up was an option, so he never did.  He would say that the cancer just overwhelmed him, not that it defeated him.  I think nothing ever defeated Dylan.

Our son is doing missionary work in South Africa.  He blogs when he gets a chance (Internet access is spotty and unpredictable).  He writes his blog posts the same way he wrote essays for my English class.


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