Several years ago, my friend Harold and I used to encounter your dad and mom on a daily basis. They'd be sitting together on a park bench near the Tea House, and they'd greet us and our dogs with enthusiasm and genuine kindness. Harold's dog Lizzy would jump up on the bench with them, which seemed to delight them thoroughly, and we'd all laugh and share a few quips. Your parents eventually had to stop making the trek, and we did, too. Still, I never pass that spot without thinking about your mom and dad. For me, it's a happy place. I feel fortunate to have known them, and I'm very sorry for your loss.