My father died when I, the oldest, was five. My mother held things together for another 31 years, and then she must have decided that enough was enough and she went to join father.

We hold ourselves together now. A couple weeks ago I went to visit first my youngest brother and my sister and then the middle brother. We sat around kitchen tables and talked, we walked around backyards and talked, we sat around living rooms and talked.

Saturday my wife will arrive in Chicago, rent a car, and drive down to see our nephew graduate from high school. She'll sit around and talk with my family, and then drive to our friend's house in Indiana.

Talking keeps people together.