THE LONG WALK BACKWARD — PART 8

One evening, the year after Barbara’s passing, when I walked into Arthur’s house, the smell of propane gas was overwhelming. Apparently, Arthur turned on the gas without lighting the burner while attempting to cook dinner. He was now sitting in the living room listening to the television at peak volume and completely oblivious to the danger.

After safely evacuating Arthur and ventilating the house, it was obvious that we had reached the point of needing dedica...