I had not been home, back to the vineyard in almost three decades. That place carried sadness for me. But this was an occasion I couldn’t miss, I wouldn’t let myself. I hadn’t spoken to him in four years, not since our last fallout. I regretted it, all the way to the airport, in the terminal, sitting on the plane and looking out along the clouds. A feeling, a burden, a stomach fire building as I got closer to The Valley. Uncle James picked me up from the airport. Seeing him, his graying beard, his rosy, sun‐burnt cheeks and glassy eyes… He reminded me of dad. My father, to whom I hadn’t spoke in so long, whom I hadn’t seen since Carrie and I were married. My father, who had died last night, taking with him any chance I had of saying good bye, of telling him I was sorry.