My Dad died Friday. He was 69. He was at home. He had battled ALS – Lou Gehrig's disease – for the last several years, and had been in hospice for several months. The last time I saw him was a few months ago. I had brought a camera with me, but when I saw him, realized that using it would be wrong. He deserved better than to be remembered that way. He knew it was coming. At the last visit, he made a point of showing me a pile of old family photos, and inviting me to take the ones I wanted. I took several from back when he and Mom were still married.