Remembering My Father

The author and her father in 1993

My father passed away eight years ago. Today would have been his 64th birthday. 

When he died, family and friends told me that the grief would subside with time, that time would dull the pain. The grief has never subsided, and, if anything, the pain has only grown stronger each year. The world feels less bright, less wonderful, less good without him. 

He left us at a time when our family was struggling. We were struggling financially, struggling emotionally as...