A decade has passed since my Dad died. A whole decade. I’ve grown out of my angsty teenage years and have settled into my still kind of angsty twenties. I often think about what it would be like if my Dad were still around. Having just attended my older sister’s wedding, I can only imagine she was feeling the same way too. In fact, all three of us have accomplished so much in the last ten years sometimes you can’t help but think about what he has missed. Chrissy is turning into Marie Curie, Paula is wrangling autism and settling into married life, and I’m grooming a team of former market basket minions and blasting sales off the charts. (Thank you greedy Greeks.)
It’s just hard to believe that he’s been gone ten years. Ten years. A lot has happened in ten years. Some days I feel like it was a lifetime ago, and other days I can’t imagine I’ve been living so much of my life without him. I remember every detail of that day. Where I was. Who I was with. What I said when we pulled up to the house. It felt so unreal. It still feels so unreal. He wasn’t a famous celebrity. The world didn’t stop to mourn his passing like we did. But every time someone close to us dies we are faced with our own mortality and the realization that nothing, and no one is forever, not even our Super Dad.
Kickass K.Hart 