Three years have passed by and I’m not sure how I felt today. At first, I decided not to acknowledge what day it was. Second, tears sprung to my eyes as memories of that awful, awful day flashed through my mind. Before my tears could fall, I did what I do best when I don’t want to express my feelings and I shut them out. Third, I sort of zombified my way through the rest of the day and now I sit here, somewhat numb to my emotions.
What I do know for sure is that I miss him. Life just hasn’t been the same since that day. His death changed me, it changed all of us.
Although his death changed me, it did teach me to truly treasure time spent with family and loved ones. It taught me that life is precious and that it can be ripped away from you at any moment. I am not naive, I do know that everybody’s story has an end. For Dad, his story ended then. As unfair as it feels, I know that he is now in God’s hands. I prefer to find comfort and peace by knowing he’s in his eternal home in heaven. Maybe someday, if I am fortunate enough, I too will cross the pearly gates and we will meet him again. What a joyous occasion that would be.