Eleven years ago today we held a memorial service honoring my father. He died on June 11th, 1997 during routine open heart surgery. He was only 40 years old. Losing a parent, especially at a young age, is something you never recover from - you merely learn to cope with it. Some days are a bit easier than others but holidays and special occasions tend to be the worst. The emptiness lingers more than a decade later and I don’t think it will ever fade.
Right before he went into surgery he wrote my sisters and I letters to be opened on Father’s Day, for better or worse. On that awful Wednesday night 11 years ago, my sisters and I returned home with our mother to an empty house and tearfully read our respective letters.
