I think of my Dad all the time--especially as I watch my kids together on snowy nights savoring every snow flake.
He would be so proud of them. And he knew--I think he knew exactly who my girls would be. He always told me that Lily--quick to smile and slow to become defeated--would be more than fine. And that Chloe would be the one who gave Lily and the world a run for their money. He used say, "there's just something about that Chloe, I can see it."
I am missing out on showing him all of this--how much I ache to say, "Dad, look! Look at them!"
That last sentence took me 15 minutes to write. I had to stop to cry.
Ten years is such a long time.
There is no solution to grief or time or missing or longing. The years will grow longer; the decades will tick by, things will change, the family will grow and I'll still miss him.
I will never be resigned to death.
I am at peace with that, truly. The rejection of resignation to death is love and memories and fight.
Here is my favorite poem, the one that always finds me when I feel lost:
Dirge Without Music
by Edna St. Vincent Millay