Stream of consciousness

I say this every year, but I mean it every single year. I can't believe it's been 9 years since my father died. The time has gone by so quickly. It feels like it was just yesterday I was sobbing into my sister's arms when she told me. That is a moment engraved in my mind. I remember thinking I will never in my life be able to think of my father and not cry. But look at me, sitting here writing of my father's death and not one tear comes. It's a true testament that time does wonders for grief and loss.

I am passionately jealous of my sisters who had my father walk them down the aisle on their wedding day. I want that so badly. I want my father to hold my first child. I want my father to see me argue in a courtroom. I want my father to meet my husband. I always contemplate how N and he would get along. I'm sure they would have gotten along very well - he would be so proud of both of us.

I remember when I would sing in school performances and my father would be wiping tears from his eyes. I remember holding my father's hand when we would drive in the car. I remember my father giving me a thumbs-up from the audience when I graduated from high school. I remember packing up my father's office after he died and finding that he framed my first report card from college.

God I miss him.