Five Years

It still surprises me to remember that it’s actually been five years since my father passed away. I often fumble when people actually ask how long it’s been and I feel embarrassed when I can’t remember correctly or actually give a wrong answer. It’s probably something I should know without much thought. How can I forget the exact date when he passed on?

I guess I just don’t like thinking about it. I guess now in some ways I still can’t accept that he’s gone and we’re continuing on without him. Sure, I’m already used to not having him around, to only see him in photographs and sometimes in dreams, but there’s still that space in my life that I feel like he should still be occupying (which of course he does in his own way even when he’s not physically around). I guess no one is ever really prepared to lose a parent, no matter how you know it’s going to happen.

I still miss him a lot and I still think of what it could have been like if he were still alive today. It’s not as difficult as it used to be, to remember him, to think of him. But I guess I’ll always feel this way around this time of the year when we all go down and visit him. I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I just wish in some ways it’s easier (and in other ways I like it the way it is, as sad as it can be).

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