It's been pouring all day. This after a week of temperatures nearly in the 90s. (Average temps here in March are usually in the 40s.) With all that heat, and now the water, my daffodils are shot. I have an insane number of them in my yard, because for several years running, I simply could not resist either the cheap bags of bulbs at the hardware store or the huge, mail-order "money-saving" bulb samplers. Now I literally have hundreds and hundreds of daffodils. It's an amazing sight when they're all in bloom. But when I left a week and a half ago, the buds were barely swelling. It was cold out. I packed long-sleeved shirts. A black sweater. Lots of underwear. I really didn't know how long I'd be gone. My dad was sick. Well, no, he was dying. That much I knew. I also knew I wanted to see him and talk to him one last time. And he waited for me. He waited for my mom, and Robin and her family to gather around him. And then, as all of us will one day, h