Bill, you are so right about talking about their past. When my fatehr died in 1981, he was in a hospital in Florida and I lived in NJ. I flew down to see him in the hospital and he didn't recognize me at first, thought I was another intern and asked me , with much exasperation, "what do you want?" When he realized who I was, he said "I guess I don't have long" Not because I never went to see him, I went to see him once a year. But it wasn't time and he was right anyway. I tried to talk to him for hours, but all I got was one word answers. We sat in silence for quite awhile. He kept telling me I didn't have to stay there. I kept trying to get him to talk. I did leave and as I walked across the parking lot I was telling myself to go back, try again, you'll never see him again. I didn't, and I didn't. And it bothers me to this day. When my Mom passed on a few years ago, I had a much better closure, was able to be with her when she went. We talked of the war years, how she played roller derby and lots of other things I wouldn't have believed. Quite a contrast and it left me wishing all the more I had been able to get my father to talk of his youth, but he apparently just wanted to die. He had never been one to be close, but I had hoped that would change. Well, anyway, excellant advise Bill.