I watched him. I watched him mow the yard, drive the car, work in the wood shop, reload his bullets, develop his film, target practice with his guns, hike, bike, snowshoe, cross country ski, make wine under the house, make his breakfast, work in his garden, write letters and in his journals, leave for work, eat dinner, nap on the couch…I watched him do all those things he loved to do (well maybe not the mowing)

I watched him watch football, baseball, car races, the news, the Lawrence Welk show, The Jackie Gleason Show, Laugh In, Flip Wilson, The Smoothers Brothers, Ed Sullivan, Carol Burnett, I watched him be entertained and laugh.

I watched him meet people, visit with his friends, entertain children, and answer all our endless questions. I watched him talk on the phone to his brothers and sister and his childhood and college friends.

I watched him tell stories and jokes, he loved a good joke. I watched him listen to stories and jokes…and laugh, I watched him laugh a lot. I didn’t hear him laugh, he was one of those silent laughers.

I watched him at Zoos and preserves and parks and farms and orchards. He was like a sponge always learning.

I watched him read, read books, magazines, newspapers, the mail, books on guns, photography, cultures, history, health, diet, people, he loved nonfiction. Except for Tony Hillerman that had everything he loved wrapped up in one.

I watched him tuck us in at night and tell us stories, I watched him grow with us and teach us things, I watched him with my husband, drink scotch and tell jokes, I watched him with my kids and make them laugh until they cried, except for Molly he never made her cry (the boys begged for it seemed).

I watched him at church (and he watched us), I watched him as we drove to church, and rode our bikes to church and walked to church with my hand in his.

In the end, I was there for him and I watched him some more and I tucked him in and kissed him goodnight like he used to do for me and I held his hand.