Yesterday was the first anniversary of my father’s passing. Nora, Craig and I went for a walk in the deep woods where he used to love to walk. Several times a week he’d get up early and walk these woods. I hadn’t been back there since he died. I took a little bag of ashes that I’d kept and we scattered them here and there by the side of the trail, most of them near the cedar log bench where he would always pause to rest. I cried. A lot. I still miss him so much. He gave me the best gift a parent or grandparent can ever give: I always knew I was loved and cherished. And I will pass that gift on to my own grandchild who will arrive next winter. Blessed be.