This is the fourth volume in the Jack Friedman Trilogy.
I know, right? But I needed to do one more.
When my father was 89, Gregory, my son, asked him, "How much longer do you think you'll live, Grandpa?"
"Seven years."
He kept his word
He died at 96.
No matter how many birthdays my father celebrated, he always told people he was at least one year older. He would turn 93 and he almost immediately would tell people he was "pushing" 94. He knew he looked good for his age, and so, his logic went, if people thought he was older, he'd look even better. As I was editing the book?and this was a few years after he died?I'd see the months?August, September, October?and I'd think, "He's going to be dead in three months... two months...in a few weeks. Tell him you love him again."
I always knew my father wouldn't be "pushing" the next year forever. I just didn't think he would die.
This is that last year.
