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After a year long slow decline, my father died on April 10 at the age 91. At his funeral on June 3, my sister Cathy and I spoke on behalf of our family to thank those who had come to say goodbye. Seeing so many people was a testament to him. Dad liked people and people liked him, and he liked nothing better than traveling across the country to see an old friend, but of course in the end Dad always came home again to Cornwall, to Minersvillage, Toytown, and the South Mountain.

My father kept a journal of the day the swallows returned in the spring and the day they left in late summer. Yesterday my brother Scott looked briefly for the little book, but couldn’t find it. Yesterday the swallows returned and my father departed. Some thought well of me for helping to take care of him these past few months so he could stay at home, but it wasn’t an imposition; I am lucky to say that I not only loved my father, but I liked him, and enjoyed being with him. RIP, Dad. You will be missed. Donald Leroy Yorty (June 27, 1925 – April 10, 2017.)

April 9th. The evening of the day. South Mountain.

For Dad

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