Dad and me/1972When my dad died he was 38.
I'm 38.
The week he died, I had just started sixth grade.
Eliza started sixth grade yesterday.
When he died, it was a hot August day and we were a happy little family
just living our happy little family lives.
It's no wonder I can't stop crying today.
I keep wondering if the anniversary of this day will ever pass when
I don't spend the whole day sobbing. Probably not.
Mom, I don't know how you did it because I can barely hold it together today.
This is a good day to remember how much I love and adore my family.
And to remember that there is a life after this one
where we can all be together again.
1 comment:
What a beautiful heart-felt memorial to your father and family. I'm shedding tears with you. You are a beautiful woman Heather. Your strength inspires me.
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