My father passed away last May. He was eighty-five. He had
a series of strokes five years ago that changed all our lives.
The last few months have been, I don't know, like walking through
a thick fog, heavy and slow. It's been hard to focus on anything
and I haven't felt like leaving the house much.
But my family is very close and we tend to hang pretty tight
together. I also have a lot of wonderful friends. They're the
good kind of friends, who call or take you for coffee and don't
seem to mind much if you can't finish a sentence. So I am very
rich in that regard.
I've been trying to make something creative every day. I find
it comforting, like listening to music, or a good walk. And
I wish the same for you.