August 27
Mom,
Shelly and I walked around Virginia Lake just after the sun had dropped behind the low-point of the Sierra, between Mount Rose and Peavine. A crescent moon was setting, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The heat of the day was waning with a slight breeze off the lake.
Debbie, the hospice nurse who examined you this afternoon, had commented that it was a beautiful day to die. It truly was.
Gary
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