Hardly a day goes by that I don't think of you, Doug. I found a picture of my granddaughter last week in a box - I remember it took my breath away when it was first given to me; it was like looking at that baby photo of you that mom kept on her dresser. It caught me every time I passed it, I always saw you, not Katey. These days it's more random memories, not the stuff I thought at the time would stick, but stuff that makes me smile: Jeanne at about age 7 calling you Uncle Bug and telling you to watch out or someone would squash you - and you telling her that she - "Beannie" - needed to be careful someone didn't cook her in a pot. That time we were leaving some building in Sarasota together and I felt like I was coming down with the flu and mumbled that my face hurt, and you saying, "Yeah, I'm sure it does, it's killing me!" Or that time we snuck out of the house in dad's brand new Mustang in Arlington, and I drove us into Washington DC - and got lost and we couldn't find our way back to Virginia. We got back finally about a half hour before dad woke up for work. Not all of my thoughts are funny. How I wish you could have met David; we were going to come see you after we got settled in Texas. I think you would have liked him. I wanted to see for myself what happened to you, those last couple of years, how you went to church again and got serious about God. The change in you was remarkable and I could hear it in your voice as I read the e-mail from you. I guess I'll get to hear about it someday. You were still you, just more fulfilled somehow. It was an answer to an ancient prayer of mine because you had something to do with my turning back to God. I just want you to know that I miss you terribly. Your death has brought me closer to Kathy, she's become like a sister. But we both wish you were still here, there's an aching gulf in all of us and life is a bit harder for us without you.