Sad week in At the foot of the hill

 This week is the anniversary of my son John's suicide.  It's been 14 years, but it still hurts like it was yesterday.  Sometimes I think I've come to terms with it, but not really.  Sometimes I am so mad at him!!!  Miss him so much.
 Now I hear that my only uncle and the last relative from the previous generation is nearing death.  His 99th birthday is next week.  He spent his whole life (up until last fall when his health failed to the point of needing full-time nursing care) on the old farm my grandparents homesteaded around 1912.  
 I had this man in mind when I chose John's name.  Perhaps the two of them will get together soon and try to top each other's tall tales.
 I'm praying for an easy passage for Uncle and strength for his son who stayed on the farm and worked it and cared for his parents, giving up his own dreams.  You are a good man, Thomas!