I only moved about 300 miles, not 2,000, but Dad was so afraid to die in one of those homes. We ended up having more years together than either of us expected, and he kept his dignity and independence until the very end.

I remember the very end a little too well, because it was awful. COPD is a terrible way to go. But the very end would likely have been just as awful in an institution.

Here, he had me, his beloved dog, and all his familiar routines, foods, and the nature he loved.

I ordered shellfish from the east coast — the clams and oysters he had adored since he was a landlocked Midwestern boy dreaming of the sea.

Like most of us, I guess my childhood memories are very strong. I remember so much about my dad from those years, but now I have my memories at the end of his life too. And I wouldn't trade them for anything.

Thank you reminding me of that.