Three Years

Three years ago today, I lost my father.

My life is so different than it was before that tragic night. I'm so different.

I try to move on my life, move past it, but on days like today, I can't help dwelling on the past. On the life I had before that fateful day, the life that included my father. It's been three years since I saw him, since I hugged or kissed him, told him that I loved him. Three long, often painful years.

Grief is a very difficult thing. In some ways, it defines you, at least for a time. It takes over your life, slowly controlling you, and it takes time to move past. Even three years later, I'm not yet completely free of it's web.

I still miss my father every day and I sometimes find myself caught up in that dark, agonizing feeling of loss, though not as much as I once did. Today, it's just ever-present. I can't get away from teh memories or the feelings. Three years ago today, my father was alive and then he wasn't.

I still wonder why he had to die, why at only 20 I had to lose my father, why he had to die at 48. It still seems so cruel, so unfair. But I know, it's not for me to know, but just to accept. The world works in weird ways, but to everything there is a purpose. I believe that, have always believed that.

Of course, that belief is cold comfort today when all I can think about is the life I had three years ago and the man I miss more than words can say. After all, three years ago today I lost my daddy.