He had died in February of that year.
Several months after Dad’s death, Mom began the steps to sell her home of over forty years. There was contact with a real estate agent. The inevitable garage sale. My sisters and I helped and there came a time when Mom invited us to take any of the things we might want. She was downsizing, soon to move to a retirement facility. There wouldn’t be enough room for many of the “things” my parents had accumulated in their nearly seven decades of marriage. In truth, my Depression-era parents had always been frugal and weren’t encumbered by piles of stuff. Don’t-buy-it-if-you-can’t-afford-it could have been a motto displayed on a shingle underneath their street address. Continue reading →