My Dad. As I've written here before, he died when I was young - 16. And he was young - 43. I can't remember his voice but I can remember riding from the funeral to the cemetery and wishing I could be anywhere or anyone else. He died in Florida but was buried in upstate New York, where we were from. I assume his coffin was transported by train, but I don't remember any of those details.
He loved living in Florida, although he died within a couple of years after moving there; just months after we had moved into a brand new home.
I miss him.
2 comments:
Any words I try come up with fall short. But, memories are vital to us so keep them near. We hold them precious, which they are. Hugs, my friend! :-)
Any words I try come up with fall short. But, memories are vital to us so keep them near. We hold them precious, which they are. Hugs, my friend! :-)
Post a Comment