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When people can breathe for a moment, with no interference, perspective seems to come rushing in. Perhaps denial is the safest way for the mind to deal with something simply too traumatic. Perhaps it's just a way to give false hope in the feeble minded. To deal with certain events that happen to other so frequently to others, feels strange and cold. No matter how many I'm-so-sorry's and how many times I'm told "he's in a better place," it feels like I'm alone. It's a ridiculous notion, my family is suffering just as much, but in my mind, nothing that needs to be expressed can find words. They simply stumble out in a blind fashion that is incoherent, pointless, even exhausting. Being an optimist is just gone and it does feel like one of my brightest stars burned out.


I will live for him. I will carry on his values, but may not always follow in his footsteps. He was a good man, but everyone must become an individual before truly accepting conformity logically. I will help her get through and survive. I will be there for his children, even if they are fifty or more years older than me. Eventually, I will provide what he couldn't and tried so desperately to the family. I will work through and support those in need not necessarily with money, but with advice that has been passed from him before it happened. He can never die because his memory will always live on in me and the younger generations in the family.




He was the closest thing to a father that I had.
I will never forget what he has taught me.
I will honor his wishes.













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