A little over a year ago, I thought the light had gone out of my life. Paul Doré, my father, and the father of my two younger sisters, died. In typical Paul fashion, it was unexpected and dramatic.
“We believe that he tripped and fell,” is what the police who came to our house the afternoon of August 4 said of the accident.
Tripped and fell? How could a man with such immense strength, intelligence, and wit die in such an … ordinary way?
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