The Part That Nobody Talks About
This past weekend, I was laying in the sun and reading on a warm afternoon. I grew tired and laid my book across my chest, crossed my arms over my body, and closed my eyes. Doing so immediately reminded of all of the times my father used to do the same thing. He did so in Tahoe as we enjoyed the mountain air, in Hawaii on the beach, or simply in his backyard that was carefully cultivated by he and my mom. When my 20 year old self realized I had to say goodbye to my dad, I knew my life would change. I knew that the long months, that turned into years, in the hospital and hours of commutes to see him would be replaced by a longing to just hear his voice. I knew that when big events happened in my life; I'd miss his presence. I knew that when I talked about "my parents" I would now have to just say "my mom." I knew that someday when I date the person I'm meant to marry, my dad won't even know that person. I knew that a part of my life would change it ce...