I was a daddy’s girl.
Even when my own children arrived, I remained a daddy’s girl.
Five years ago this girl lost her daddy.
I could recount the story of where I was when I heard the news, but I can’t invite that chest-cracking pain into my day.
I wish I could sit one more time, holding my father’s hands. I miss the possibility of his hello; I miss the ever-ready energy that he brought to life; I miss the smile. I miss the calm that seeped into all the cracks of my life just because he loved me. Absolutely.
Norman Scott Strickland: September 14, 1928-July 16, 2006
I buried my father in the sky. Since then, the birds clean and comb him every morning and pull the blanket up to his chin every night.
From the poem Little Father by Li-Young Lee
Shoots, Roots, and Leaves 
I’m so sorry for your loss. The years go by but so often the pain doesn’t.
Nancy from My Ancestors and Me at http://nancysfamilyhistoryblog.blogspot.com
Thank you for your condolences. I must apologize for not replying sooner; my spam filter got overly diligent. 😉
Again, I appreciate your taking the time to stop by.
Kay
What a beautiful tribute to your father. Today would have been the birthday of my mother who died 17 years ago — hard to believe.
I think these anniversaries of deaths and births allow us to feel haunted; and for a moment we feel our souls connect with those who left before us. It is oddly comforting to mourn.