It still rocks me to the core to think of him and knowing I’ll never see him again. It’s been almost eleven years since he passed and the reality of the situation has settled in. That doesn’t mean that a part of me will ever stop fighting it and hoping that I am the victim of some disturbing lie.
At 16 I had to come to terms with the reality that I’d lived only half my life with him by my side and that half was dwindling away with every passing moment. At eighteen; another landmark age in my life, I had to understand that a decade had come and gone just as my fathers life had, and that one decade is only the beginning of many more to come.
Even now at the peak of eleven years I still fear the thought of forgetting his face. Still learning that another year forward is another year without him, and that future events can only be made more difficult by his unfortunate absence.
