twenty-seven years and one million words
My brother called to let me know that our father has set a date for his medically assisted death. It's this coming Friday morning (my time). I was in Campbell River to say my goodbyes, and it looks like I was none too soon! 😢
We all support him, of course. What he's going through is terrible and there's no chance of improvement of course.
It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by the dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions and spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly; so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat.
—Theodore Roosevelt, Jr.