Today is the three-year anniversary of my father's death. At the age of 52, he
died of a heart attack. He had always been of ill health and I had
always known that he would die relatively young but, I don't think
anything can prepare you for the loss of a parent or a spouse. My father was a genius, he was an award-winning news broadcaster. The things I miss most about my father are
being able to talk to him and to hear his beautifully full and rich voice giving me
counsel and advice.
It is sort of ironic how my father died in the early hours of the anniversary of Pearl
Harbor, and my husband died the day before September 11,
2001. It seems sort of cruel that I would have two external reminders for each
sorrow. Every time anyone mentions either day, I selfishly think of my own personal
tragedies. All of these events have spurred sad and morbid thoughts. I'm not a
morbid person. I keep trying to smile.
/me misses Hermetic