My brother-in-law, John Goulding, died a year ago today. He was Rob’s older brother, and they shared a room as kids, despite a ten-year age difference. This means my husband was introduced to Led Zeppelin and bongs at a very early age, and that he was once the target for pellet gun shooting when John and his friends were curious about whether or not it would hurt to get shot. It did. But Rob always laughs when he tells the story.

John had Burkitt’s lymphoma, a particularly insidious form of blood cancer. We learned about his diagnosis while we were in Napa for the 2013 Ride to Defeat ALS. We felt helpless, which by then, was not a new feeling for us, but still an unwelcome one. John lived for 8 more weeks. Rob was by his side when he passed away. So were his daughters, his wife and others who loved him.

I couldn’t be there, but I had the privilege of drafting an obituary. An obituary is such an extraordinary concept, a short collection of words expected to distill the essence of an entire life. I did the best I could, but the obit did not mention Zeppelin, pot, or pellet guns, and so it obviously came up short. Read More>