There are bookcases filled with Tom’s books all over the house. In the garage, more boxes filled with books. Beside the bed, on his dresser, beside the couch – you guessed it – more books.
The books remind me how different Tom and I were from each other. He loved literature and reading of all sorts. The topic didn’t matter, or the writing style, Tom loved to read. He had a thirst for knowledge no matter what the topic or how difficult a read the book characterized.
I now read the titles as I scan the bookcases hoping to find some part of Tom that I can latch onto. Some of these books I have read, and others I have not. Some of the books, I will attempt to read, and others I will find a new home for. There are also books that will be saved for the boys to read at some point in their future.