August 28, 2026- “Let’s go.” With that remark, Hana stood at the gate to her playpen, and was ready for me to help her take some steps. She is not shy about asking for help, or,as was the case today, telling me she wants assistance. I carefully opened the gate and we took about a dozen steps, almost making it to her mother’s office. She stopped at the small rise between her play pit and the front door. After thinking for a few minutes, she took the step up and made it along the wooden floor as far as her father’s pair of sneakers. Her mother came out of the office and Hana decided she’d done enough step-taking for the morning.

The three of us went shopping at Costco, as Aram was at work. When Yunhee said she was going into the fruit cooler, to get blueberries, Hana excitedly said “Yum!” She can’t get enough of them. The four of us do go through blueberries rather quickly.

She was exhausted by day’s end, not letting herself sleep, even when put down for a nap. She had to keep practicing standing and scooting, much of the afternoon. After her bath, she was in bed by 6:45, and out like a light.

HANA’S NOTE- I am glad that Papa understands me, when I say some words in his language. I am understanding his language, and my Mama’s, more and more.

YEAR IN REMEMBRANCE-2011 Aram made the call, while I was at work, in the last few days of February. Penny’s visiting doctor and home nurse had both come down with the flu and were unable to fulfill their visits. She needed care, regardless, so back to the Hospice she went. We spent most of our time there, the next several days. Penny began to throw out the artwork that visiting children had left, and she was asleep most of the time, anyway. My wife of twenty nine years became unresponsive in the evening of March 3. She remained in laboured breathing, the next day. as there was no available room for me to stay that night, Aram and I went home.

The next morning, I awoke to a heavy presence that filled our bedroom. I knew Penny was saying goodbye. Getting up and readying for the day, I took a call from the Hospice, just after 6 a.m. We had to go there quickly. When Aram and I arrived at the Hospice, the air was still, but there was a light spiral of dust and leaves going upward, near the front door. We went inside, where the nurse said she had just checked on Penny and she was lying calmly, in shallow breath. That breath had stopped, however, at 6:03, and her still warm body was lifeless, as I held her hand. We summoned the doctor, called a friend who was a mortician, and spent about thirty minutes saying our own goodbyes. We then had to drive to Prescott, and sat with Penny’s parents, in this time that no parent should have to endure.

The following Tuesday, I wrapped my beloved’s body in silk, carefully following the directions I was getting from her spirit. It was a dignified ending, to a horrific eight years of physical and mental decline. It had witnessed me grappling with every bit of self-loathing, while I kept going because Penny needed me, our son needed me and, I needed myself to get a grip and somehow pull through.

Family came, we gave her a loving funeral and then, I was alone, save for our son. I went back to work at Dysart and Glendale Union, the following Monday. Outside of work, though, I was a shell of a person, for two months. In May, Aram and I drove east, to my third niece’s wedding, in New Hampshire, one for which Penny and I had prayed for most of our last year together. It was an event that I needed to attend, even if some of the family thought it was too soon for me to be out. It was a beautiful affair.

Summer came soon after. Aram entered the Navy. I moved my belongings to Prescott, leaving behind our home of eight years. Then I drove east, again, spending a week at Louhelen Baha’i School, slowly pulling myself together. Visits with family in Georgia, New Jersey and Massachusetts were alternately hard and comforting, but I’m glad to have made them. When I went back to Prescott, it felt like I was settling into a haven of peace. Gradually, I would shed the cloak of self-loathing and earn the respect of all but one or two of my family members. I would also feel like I had found community, at long last.