I used part of it to create a small fund through the hospice program for patients who had no family nearby.
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The rest helped my mother and me live without financial fear for the first time in years.
But the house?
I kept it.
Not because of its value.
Because inside Daniel’s desk, I found an old photograph.
Two young men stood side by side outside a factory.
One was Daniel at nineteen.
Family
The other was my father.
On the back, in my father’s handwriting, were five words:
“Take care of each other.”
Daniel had spent his whole life honoring those words.
And only after he was gone did I finally understand who he really was.
