Six years without you, Dad!!
Six years ago today, my dad died. The memory of that day is still so vivid. It started with a phone call bearing news that he wasn’t doing well. I remember the worry gnawing at me, but there was still hope. Then came the final call. And there I was, standing in my kitchen, doing the dishes, feeling like the ground had shifted beneath me. Suddenly, I was in a world without my dad. The numbness was overwhelming. I went through the motions that night, but it’s all a blur. Grief does that—it fogs your mind, leaving you disoriented and lost. This date, every year, brings a rush of emotions, both old and new. I always think I'll be more prepared, that somehow the passage of time will soften the blow. But grief doesn’t work on a schedule. Today, I feel a weight on my chest, a heaviness that’s hard to shake. The pain is sharp, and the uncertainty is unsettling. Part of me wants to shove it all aside, to ignore it and carry on. But I’ve learned that ignoring grief doesn’t make it go away. I...