A Writer's Notebook, Day Five-Hundred-And-Sixty-Five-Hundred-And-Seventy

It is the anniversary of the day my father died, and it was around this hour of the morning when my mother and I drove to the hospital to be at his bedside when he passed.  I don't really have a lot that I can say, though it feels particularly poignant in this time to think of how important it can be to cherish those we love while we can. 

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