It was one year and seven minutes ago today that my father died from Leukemia. To say that the calendar has sailed by would be an understatement. I'm still not sure if, or to what degree, I am still grieving, or how it has affected me over the last year. Greif is a necessary, yet insidious thing; makes you wonder, makes you second-guess yourself on your moods and reactions.
I am trying to approach the day with the sort of sardonic humor that was part and parcel to my father's character, and thus my own, being the apple not far from the tree.
But if I stop for too long, and really remember the day, it all comes back in a wave.