I was at my sister's last night for dinner and we talked about my dad who died fifteen years ago yesterday. Four children have been born in that time, our mother is gone too, one marriage has occurred, another is being dissolved. My dad has missed all of this and so much more. I'm glad he didn't live beyond my mother though - he couldn't have taken losing her. I like to think they are together and happy again. Despite all, theirs was a love match of two souls who truly understood and appreciated one another.

I look in the mirror and this old person looks back. I was thirty three when my father died and young. I still feel young in my head, and still very immature in some ways, but I've my share of hard knocks - most of which have been learning experiences.

Sitting there in the kitchen I've eaten thousands and thousands of meals in, I told my sister that I felt more comfortable eating there than anywhere - felt at home. The house is different, but the bones are the same and it resonates with my parents and my childhood.

Everything is bittersweet lately though. My brother is moving and we're hoping that it is an easy transition for him. My sister is bearing the brunt of this as she is the one who has been doing the caregiving for him since my mother died. She took care of my mother too. It has not been easy for her. She's a substantial person with an acute sense of responsibility, which, for better or worse, I don't have. I'm trying to look in the mirror though and make any changes I think might be needed.