August 5: On this day in 1916, my father was born. On this day in 2014, my mother died. They were married for sixty years, the two so much better together than alone. They found such happiness in this tiny corner of southeastern Washington with the Blue Mountains in the near distance. We were relieved when Mom, after a quick but difficult decline last summer, let go of this life to join Dad. We so miss having their presence in our lives that today, in our own hometowns, my sisters, brothers, and I will each find some butter pecan ice cream to eat in Dad’s honor and watch a game of Jeopardy! in Mom’s memory.