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“You know what today is?” my mother asked in a recent phone call.
“I do,” I replied without hesitation.
She didn’t have to ask.
I needed no reminder that July 11 was the fifth anniversary of my father’s death from cancer.
I try not to dwell on the pain of his last days and the suffering which he handled with dignity.
Instead, I try to focus on my fondest memories of him.
And so, on a recent evening, I eschewed the usual offerings on TV and, to honor my father, settled down in front of a good Western.
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