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Lincoln family gives a new life to an old table - and so much more

The dining room table, it's not my style.

But it was my parents' style, and we ate every holiday meal there at the house they built after we all grew up and left home.

A bigger house. A house with the dining room my mom always wanted.

What my dad wanted was to die in that house.

Now a dark-haired stranger was carting that table away from the retirement home my mom and dad had landed and where Dad would spend his last months.

His journey was a fill-in-the-blank primer on aging, as predictable as a sunrise. A stroke one year, a fractured neck the next, a life-changing fall on the driveway.

When...

 

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