9 years

It's funny how vividly I can remember the moments before, during, and after I got the call that Dad died 9 years ago.


Like how Mom didn't want us to be at the house, because she knew.
And how horrible Aunt Sandi looked without makeup.
And how the trees were all covered with ice and snow on the ride down 64.
And how the cars circled the graveyard.

I was only 13 years old, and I had to grow up kind of quickly in those moments.

I miss him so very much and I hope, more than anything that he'd be proud of me.