Fifteen years ago today, I came home to a scene out of anyone's worst nightmare. The pastor was there, my aunt and uncle were there, we walked in and my mom was sobbing. I was 16 and although I didn't think so then, I was just a kid.
Fifteen years is a terribly long time....it's also not so very long really. Sometimes it seems so recent, and then there are times when I have trouble remembering, and other times when it seems surreal....
A few years ago I read A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving, this quote struck me as truth - tragic and beautiful: "When someone you love dies, and you're not expecting it, you don't lose [him] all at once; you lose [him] in pieces over a long time--the way the mail stops coming, and [his] scent fades from the pillows and even from the clothes in [his] closet and drawers. Gradually, you accumulate the parts of [him] that are gone. Just when the day comes--when there's a particular missing part that overwhelms you with the feeling that [he's] gone, forever--there comes another day, and another specifically missing part."
There are still days, and moments when I miss my Dad terribly. It's at those times I try to remember that when someone has helped shape who you are, they live on in you. Part of me comes from my Dad, and I'm proud to be his daughter.
Here is a picture of me and my Dad, when I was 2:
