After 18 months of knowing that we were losing the bedrock of our family, I got the gut punch on April 16th late in the afternoon. Knowing it was coming seemed to make no difference to the impact. My father-in-law lost his battle to cancer. I often referred to him as my "stunt-Dad". After losing my own father at a young age, he stepped in when times were tough and took over the duty. And man did he do an amazing job. In July, I will have been married to his youngest daughter for 30 short years. In those years, I never once saw that man get angry or have a bad day. He was the most optimistic and positive person I have ever been around. He taught me much in the ways of life and happiness. He taught me kindness and giving and I taught him all I could about the outdoors. We became great friends in addition to being family. Since this Covid virus has the world on ear, the ending was an extraordinary blessing. Hospice would only allow two people to visit each 24 hours. That was certainly not what he would have wanted, so...….we got a crash course on giving hospice care in the home and the entire family spent his last 4 days giving all we had to honor the man in the most dignified and compassionate way we could. It was the single most difficult and yet rewarding thing I have ever done. A hospice nurse would come for 20 minutes each day to give us instructions for the next 24 hours and the rest was up to us. Both of his daughters, their husbands, and all of our adult children and grandchildren provided the around the clock care and stayed in their home. We now have a bond that not many families will ever share. There were lots of tears and many laughs over stories told, and a shot or two of his favorite Crown Royal to send him on. He shot his first deer in his very late 60's and they became an obsession for him as they are or were, for most of us. His home is in the middle of Des Moines in a beautiful neighborhood and 20 minutes before he passed, three deer walked into the back yard in the middle of the afternoon and stood by the window of the sunroom where we had placed his hospital bed. I told him that the local herd was here to pay their respects. It seemed a fitting end. Godspeed David Dean.