Every year I’ve written something profound on missing my father, on this – the day that I always think of as the day that we lost him. 22 September was the day he vanished – was thrown into the coma from which he never woke.
Today, I can’t. I’m too heartbroken. Too tired. Today, will just be brief reminder to the world that this amazing man lived. Loved. And was – and is – loved so, so much.
You can read last year’s tribute here and a brief “things I learned from my father” post. One day – not today, I don’t think I can do it – I will write the full story for this blog. It’s a story that needs to be told.
Here, instead, is a picture of my mom and dad taken sometime in the 70s. If I have half the marriage they did, I’ll be happy.