On the 10th Anniversary of My Father's Death
10 years ago today my dad's body took its last breath, but his spirit lives on in the memories of him that I can call up in an instant. Memories from my childhood when he played with and cared for us kids, and memories of him growing weaker in his living room chair. And all that lies between. Good memories, bad memories. Happy memories, sad memories. Old memories, recent memories. All of them there for the conjuring into my present, bringing his spirit to life. So today is not a day for mourning, but a day for remembering my father. There's no need for condolences, thoughts or prayers from anyone; just rememberings. One year, 5 years, 10 years; none is more meaningful than the other - we just seem to like round numbers, but oh, how they fly by! With each tick of the clock, turn of the calendar, and change of the seasons our bodies age, we move closer to the front of the queue, and then it's our turn to exit, unaccompanied, leaving our bodies to corrupt. Then as we drift