1201 days? That seems like an eternity to me when I think of all they've missed.
Then again, 1201 days really isn't that much time at all when I think of how fresh the loss is in my heart.
I often worry that I'll forget what they sounded like and looked like, but both are etched in my brain and woven throughout my memories.
I carry them with me everywhere and I ache to hear their voices again and dread each and every single anniversary, birthday and other special occasion they are missing. But it is the mundane everyday life events that they are missing that make me the saddest.
1201 days later and I am still pressing on.
I press on for my sanity, for Lucas' sake and for them, because that is what they'd want me to do.
My father would have been 64 today.
Michael Stephen Adams