My friend Steve died when I was in Israel in 1995 (from his drinking) and when I was unjustly deported I ended up returning to Toledo and lived with his mother, Doris, my "adopted" mother, in her big house in the city since her other son is in prison (whose birthday is today and mine was last week - same age) and her West Virginia family was concerned about her living here alone and it helped us both out (helping her with her rental properties and painting and mowing, driving - since she had scleroderma), etc.)... Doris died this past Dec. 24th within an hour after her sister (up from WV) and I got her home from a week's stay in the hospital (!) and I found she had saved this postcard I sent her when Steve died (he died in June, a few days after his 32nd birthday)...
Time Heals All Wounds
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