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Twenty-four years ago we bid farewell to Jan’s father Lyle Kleinlein after a year long illness with advanced colon cancer. We were there when he died, and I got to say to him, “Go on ahead, Lyle; we will come soon to join you,” at which he relaxed and stopped struggling to breathe. He had asked me to officiate at his funeral, preaching on forgiveness (which is the only reason our family had been able to come together), while his step-son, Edsel, also a minister, would speak about his practical joking and impish sense of humor. The funeral went well on a perfect May morning. Hours afterward Nathan and I left Jan at Mt. Sterling. We drove home, and I realized that the watch that Lyle had given me years before was missing. I had taken it off as I drove and put it in the car’s ash tray. It was not there. Nathan helped me search the car and the things I had already taken into the house, but it was nowhere to be found. We gave up and, hungry, went to the refrigerator. There the watch sat where neither of us had put it.

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