Six years ago today (October 22), my dad died after a brief illness from COVID. He tested positive on Saturday, and died the following Thursday.
Dad worked in Emergency Services, and so his death was ruled a Line Of Duty Death. I have written so much about him over the years, but it is the most Dad thing ever that he would die as a result of helping others.
Grief never ends. People ask sometimes how I’m doing, or how Mom is doing. Mostly, I say we are fine, but we miss him.
But the fuller truth is that when he died, it was as if a piece of glass shattered, with sharp edges and jagged pieces everywhere. And for weeks, these pieces just tumbled around, slicing and stabbing. It was really bad.
But as time went on, they rubbed up against each other, and eventually the edges wore smooth. They are still there, easily observable, but for the most part, they are softer, less abrasive, almost beautiful, like sea glass.
But every once in a while, you find a sharp edge. It catches you by surprise when it happens. Those hurt the most. It happens less often than it did.
But it still happens.
This is my favorite picture of my Dad. When the local paper ran a profile on him, this is the photo they took to run with the story.
It’s Dad as I remember him best. He’s at his desk, his funny signs in the background, his ubiquitous baseball cap on his head, his phone and coffee cup within reach, and his emergency radio close by so he is not out of touch in case of an emergency.
I miss him every day.