It’s been one year.

This photo is from August 1975. I’m not sure, but I suspect that may be picking up beach stones at Whitefish Point.

Here’s a family photo, dated December 11, 1974.

Dad was my softball coach. This is August 1985, when we won first prize. I remember half the kids on the team were away on vacation. I played right field, which is what Dad played. But I had to cover right and center due to lack of players. We must have done okay, to have won.

I am somewhat surprised that one year doesn’t make things any easier. In fact, the feeling that one whole year has passed is almost unbearable.

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”
― Mary Jean Irion