Jack died onSeptember 14, 1965. I still think, although not as often as I once did, about what else I could have learned from Jack. But that is selfish. I realize that others who knew him could also have learned more if Jack had lived longer. He was only 52. Then there were those who never would have the opportunity to meet him. Although it would be their loss, they will never realize it.
That day was the saddest day in my life. I was only 19. An even sadder day of my life would come onJune 21, 1987. That was the day Jack’s older daughter died from breast cancer. She was my wife. She was only 43. Like her father, Mary Jo always had a smile on her face. I try to be like her and her father. But sometimes memories make it hard.
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