Tomorrow, my father will have been dead for fifteen years.
As time has passed, I have experienced different emotions on this day. Last year, I was out golfing with YS and getting a sunburn on one half of my body. Three years ago, my youngest nephew came home from the hospital after being born. Nine years ago, I was taking final exams in high school; thirteen I was graduating from eighth grade...
This year, I find myself a bit more grief-stricken than in some of the other more recent years. I think this is because of the added grief of Mom having died just two months ago. Because our grief at the loss of Mom is so new, I find myself reminded of the intense grief that came from the trauma of "the accident" and Dad's death. So, I remember and find the grief a bit compounded.
I do give thanks, as I reflect, that the last words I said to both of my parents were ones of love. After Dad's heart attack, I stayed (relatively) calm, got the car stopped, and stayed in it while YS and our friend jumped out. I stayed with Dad for a few minutes, and only left because YS and Friend were standing by some guy I did not know. I didn't want them to go with some stranger in their shock, so I got out of the car. But, not before I looked at Dad and said, "Dad, I love you."
That day at Pastures, I told Mom several times, "Mom, we love you." And, well, the story about her death is just a couple below this one.
I don't really know what the purpose of this post is. I suppose I just feel kind of alone in the midst of all this. I'm 800 miles away from my family. My friends are spread far and wide. And thankfully, most of my friends still have their parents. I reckon I am trying to get some of this off my chest and out there. I miss my parents.