For Joe Brown, my dad, and one of the greatest men I will ever know.
March 17, 2012 was a beautiful Saturday morning. The day, like many in February, was unseasonably warm, but not uncomfortably so. Unlike many of the days in February, I wasn’t spending a lot of time sitting with my dad on his deck. It seemed especially odd not to be sitting with him, mainly because it had been only ten days since we heard the dreaded words, “There’s nothing else we can do. It’s time to think about making you comfortable.” Instead of sitting and visiting, I was outside with several friends working on a project that my father-in-law dreamed up. We were all moving a remnants of 78 foot Maple my parents had cut down (the “professionals” idea of cleaning up was putting everything in a couple of piles right by the house). I threw myself into the work, eager to avoid the thoughts spinning in my head and how much Dad had declined in the previous week. Then, something magical happened and that Saturday became a Good Day.
