The Oldest and the Youngest

Life goes on… and on. A week after my sister passed away, my father turned 92. It was a very strange day. We had a small celebration with chocolates, cookies and coffee. It all happened in a serene and depressed atmosphere.

A few days later some local officials, dressed in traditional folkloric costumes, payed tribute to my Dad because he’s one of the oldest inhabitants of the village. This is a regular annual tradition. Many happy returns!

Thank you so very much for your help, kindness, compassion and sympathy at one of the most difficult times of our lives.

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