Just ust over two years ago I came to live with Larry’s family in California, about an hour’s drive north of San Francisco. I had been born and raised in California until we moved to Florida in 2001, so it was coming home.

Even though Larry and I have been together for 32 years, I had never spent time with his family except for holiday gatherings. Now I was moving into his family home with his 87-year-old mother and two siblings, a brother and a sister. They had all been living in this house together for some years. I was the newcomer.

Larry had come to live there instead of with me after he fell out of a tree and broke his back and right leg. It just made sense for me to stay with the house in Florida and for him to go stay with his family while he recovered. His last words to me as he left our home in Florida were, “I’ll be back when I can walk.”

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