Twenty two years ago my dad got sick.
Twelve years ago my dad died.
About seven years ago with the help of a friend I hunted down his cremated remains at the funeral home.
This summer I am taking him to his final resting place.
I had a long time to deal with all that. Yet this last step hurts like hell. This last little piece of letting go is stinging. I don't know why, I am just paying attention to it.
I didn't see this coming.
Today I am grateful for the happy times we spent together.
May you be blessed by living in the moment.