A year ago today, my father died unexpectedly. It's a long story. It was jarring and sad that he died, and it triggered a chain of complicated legal issues, but I didn't lose a father that day. I lost my father 15 years ago when my mother and I left. He was troubled in many ways. Only last year, we had just started reconnecting, to the best he was able, over the care of my beloved grandmother (his mother, whose death later that year still haunts me), and then he died. He lived a sad life, so his death was sad, made even more so by the fact that he had probably died several days before he was found, alone in the house.
Obit I wrote.
My mother and I scattered his ashes over the Atlantic Ocean in Rehoboth. His late-in-life wish was to travel to Turks and Caicos, or Mexico and spend the rest of his life on the beach. While his passport was unused, I know that he'll get there someday, perhaps he's even there by now.
Okay, I have to stop writing now, as getting teary at work is really not appropriate.
