By Rachel Stewart

Sometimes I think about my Dad- vivacious, hilarious, running a business, maintaining many friendships, enjoying having his two daughters launched, in his 30th year of marriage- and I shake my head in disbelief. He’s gone. In an instant, he left this earth with huge footprints and shoes that can’t be filled.

It’s been nearly four months and in most ways, it’s just now sinking in. I used to love looking at pictures of him and right now it’s too hard. Life’s problems seem trivial. Nothing is exciting or motivating or worth it. Even as I write this, I have tears stinging my eyes, wet cheeks, and a headache from holding in the emotions all day.

I miss my Dad. I’ll never get to see the look on his face when he sees me in a wedding dress. I’ll never see him hold his grandchild. I’ll never see him get grey hair. We’ll never throw him a retirement party. He’ll never blow out the candles of a 60th birthday cake, 70th, 80th…