Introduction: Third Year
This winter marks my third in the valley—and my third inside a body growing still.
What began as a stumble has become a quiet unraveling. And yet, while my strength fades, something else opens: presence, clarity, light.
This is not just a story of loss. It’s the end of story itself.
Come sit with me in the stillness—where words fall away and something deeper remains.
Introduction: Second Year
One winter morning, I fell on the ice—and couldn’t get up.
That moment marked the end of something… and the beginning of something else.
This piece is about losing the last pieces of independence, the arrival of a tattooed caregiver named Mark, and a children’s book I wrote for grandchildren I’ll never meet.
It’s about legacy. Lightness. And the slow, sacred weight of a feather.
Introduction: First Year
In the first year after my diagnosis, I planted lavender, towed a teardrop trailer across the East Coast with my son, built a billion-dollar company, and studied the soul’s terrain from my kitchen table.
I knew the clock was ticking.
So I chose to live—deeply, honestly, and all the way through.
This reflection is about fatherhood, fortitude, and finding wonder even in the narrowing.
Introduction: The Valley
After so much chasing, I finally found stillness.
This cottage in a steep green valley—with its stone walls, wide windows, and birdsong—has become my last sanctuary. A place to watch, to listen, and to begin saying goodbye.
This reflection is about home. Not as escape, but as embrace.
A final classroom. A final breath of grace.