I think when Dad died, a part of me went right along with him.
He wouldn't want that. And now- finally, I don't want it either.
The greatest monument to the life of a loved one is not some marble edifice erected atop a grave. It's not how long we mourn or how deeply we grieve. We are the testament. Our tribute is in how we live our lives without them.
My mistake, thus far, has been in thinking I have to use all the tools Dad gave me every day, perfectly, just as he would have used them. But today I realized something- if I did that, I'd be living his life and not my own. Dad would really not like that. He was all about the importance of living your own life.
Besides, I would only be a cheap imitation of the greatest dad in the Universe.
I've tried to be a carbon copy of him and failed miserably every single day for the past 18 months. I've even tried to write like I imagine he'd want me to write- and it just hasn't worked.
I'm not a very good graveyard angel. That's okay. Maybe my job is to be the dandelion that grows beside the marble monument, stretching its roots deep and lifting its face toward the sun.
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