Time flows differently when you're working through a rough spot in life.

It somehow speeds along and drags to a standstill all at the same time.

As I watched Henry's treatment slowly wear him down,

summer somehow slept away into autumn.

And before I knew it, autumn had withered and curled up in the winter.

I bore witness to his suffering.

And I suffered along with it.

Henry is a tough old buzzard, not out about that,

but I secretly feared the neoadjuvant treatment would be the death of him

before the cancer he had a chance to stop up to the plate.

As Henry's body declines, so did his spirit.

I began to fear he was losing the will to fight against the awful disease.

I spent many nights staring at the ceiling while Michelle slept beside me,

thinking about the preparations which would have to be made for Henry's eventual passing.

I hated myself for doing it, but I couldn't ignore the reality of his situation

in favor of unrealistic hopes and wishes.

Henry had made me the executor of his estate,

so it would be my responsibility to oversee the ghastly business of disassembling the remnants of his earthly existence,

piece by piece until no trace of him was left.

As it turns out, Henry had the granddaddy of loose ends waiting for me at the farmhouse,

an astie bit of unfinished business that will definitely have me lying awake on many nights to come.

I'll admit, I used to doubt some of the wilder details of my uncle's tall tales,

...