Today is the fifth anniversary of my father's death here in California; in NZ it was yesterday. I ordered my usual bunch of flowers to send to the facility where he spent his last two-and-a-half years, and I had my usual mope. I am grateful, truly grateful, that I was there for his last day, but that was the hardest eight hours of my life.
I always feel like a peeled onion in the anniversary week. While it's true that time is a great healer, it's also true that you don't get over the loss of a parent. You just get used to it.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
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