I didn’t grow up thinking about family history. Most of us don’t. You assume the people who raised you will always be right there — sitting in their chairs, answering the phone, telling the same stories you’ve heard a hundred times. You assume there will always be another holiday, another Sunday visit, another chance to ask the questions you never got around to. But life has a way of proving you wrong before you’re ready. In 2023, I lost my mom. In 2024, I lost my dad. And in

Some folks preach with words. My papa preached with cedar, river water, and a twinkle in his eye. He didn’t always go to church, but he...