n 1967, Minnie was diagnosed with melanoma, the worst form of skin cancer. She was treated, and, for a good while, the progress of her disease was halted.

Her treating physician was Dr. Charles McDonald, a black dermatologist at Yale New Haven Hospital, who, like many young, black doctors coming to New Haven, had been welcomed by my father. Soon after he arrived in 1960, a close friendship developed between our families.

For a while, his pioneering treatment of the then-relatively-rare disease, provided a good degree of optimism, and she was able to lead a relatively normal life. In the summer of 1969, however, she had to be hospitalized. After returning home, briefly, at the end of the summer, she was hospitalized again in October and died, at age 52, in mid-November.

Minnie had challenged him to become involved in his community, tirelessly supported him when he did, and was actively involved herself. Her warmth and caring permeated our family life. Her friendship, counsel and comfort for my father was immeasurable. He trusted her implicitly.

ODO NYERA FIE KWAN Literally: love does not get lost on its way home. Symbol of love, devotion and faithfulness.

The 1969 Christmas poem was produced barely a month after Minnie's death. He talked about the Vietnam War, the first man on the moon, the progress of my sister's young children, and my graduate-school activities before writing about the loss of his wife:

"It leaves me bereft—of a mate without peer—
And missing the warmth of her love and good cheer—
But God has his schedule—which no man can change—
We mortals must bow—and our lives rearrange."

Stoically, he accepted her death as God's will, which he would have to adjust to, perhaps, as he had adjusted to the loss of his mother, father and brother. They all had tragically shortened lives.