It’s hard to believe that my dad has been gone for three years now. In some ways it feels like it has been forever since I’ve gotten to talk to him, but in other ways it still feels like I should be able to pick up the phone and call him anytime. Even now, I still catch myself thinking about calling him when something funny happens, when I’m having a tough day, or when I just need a little advice. I guess that just shows how much I relied on him and how much his voice and perspective meant to me.
Every year around May 14, Steph and I make a trip up to Grimton to decorate his gravesite. It’s a little road trip, which feels fitting because Dad always loved a good drive. While we’re there, we usually spend some time in his hometown of Orchard and take a quiet walk through what has to be one of the most peaceful cemeteries I’ve ever been in.
We bring a couple of beers and sit with him for a while. It’s a simple tradition, but it means a lot. I love that Steph and I do this together. That day is never an easy one to remember, but it’s a lot easier to carry when my sister is right there beside me.
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