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Four Years

My father passed away four years ago yesterday. After the second anniversary, the burn of the moment seemed to subside. There’s still moments where it blindsides me, but for the most part I’m mostly normal.

It’s different with a parent though. No matter your relationship with them, it’ll hit you. The relationship I had with my father was not even close to perfect or something I look fondly of in its entirety. Yet, where I got past the death’s of aunts and uncles fairly quickly, my father lingers.

The thing I still miss the most is the conversations. It wasn’t really until the last few years of his life I got to know something of his upbringing on the Gulf Coast. I knew much of his time in the California desert and Nebraska, but little of his time in Mississippi. There’s still much I don’t know. But this is what happens when there gaps in a relationship.

Still, I sit here four years later and I can smile with ease. I’m sure of myself. I like where I’m at and where I’m hopefully going. It wasn’t easy at first. But, over time, it’s gotten easier. We all grieve at our own pace and in our own ways. I like where I’m at in that process for myself.