I have three brothers-in-law. The husbands of my wife’s sisters. I like them all. Hell, I love them all. I’m an only-child. These guys, and my sisters-in-law, after almost 25 years of marriage, they’re my siblings. I love ’em. I love their kids. I don’t have kids, and their kids mean everything to me.

One of my brothers-in-law just lost his father. The man was in a bad car crash, and after a month long battle he finally just gave out. I met him a few times, and he as a good man. One of those salt-of-the-earth sort of people who just typifies “the Good”. Hey, I know that no one is perfect. Not meaning to deify the man, but he was a good, good man. He raised a good son.

The crash was over in Louisiana. He’d been on his way over there for his birthday when the crash happened. His wife came away OK, but he got really messed up. Lots of broken bones, some internal damage. A month in ICU resulted in some resistant bacterial infections. Hospitals are just not the best place to spend a lot of time.

My brother-in-law was over there for nearly a month. What a rough month. He did what he needed to do. He was there for his mom and dad. Not everyone can work it out when stuff like this happens, but he was able, so he did, and I admire that.

Thank you, Henry, for raising a great brother-in-law. You live on in him.


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