I went home over the Labor Day weekend. My parents are both dead. It's just my brother and me. He married at 26, and that wife left sixteen years later. He was upset because he had tried really hard to make it work and it didn't, because of her. The second wife is a nice person. She brought three children into the relationship. The oldest is one of my soulmates. The second one played basketball in school and is now a lawyer. The third one is a marketing specialist. We have a farm, where he still lives. My parents' house, where I grew up, is still there. My mother lived in it for 29 years after my father died of lung cancer. After my father died, Mother gradually ran out of steam. Dad had been her rock, and her backup, in ways that I don't think she let herself know. All of this is to tell you what it's like to go home when your older relatives are all gone, when the only home you have ever known is no longer home. It's still where you grew up, but it's n...