Day 290 of 365
(This was meant to be posted yesterday but we had a busy afternoon)
You can only bury somebody so many times.
This year finally did it for me.
It was the last time I could mentally bury my father.
I’m close to wrapping up a project I shot and curated about his existence and the empathy we should all strive for when dealing with our wrong doers.
I was also able to speak in the presence of the man that killed my father this year and it felt pretty damn good.
In some sense it was a form of closure for me.
A chapter finished.
From now on I’d like to remember my father for the good he did, his trips to Maine, his love for running, his passion for talking to strangers, and ability to have a good laugh.
My mom painted a pretty picture of the man that would have raised us, she took us to his favorite places, and told us stories of him growing up. Boy do I appreciate that now. Thanks Jeannine,
and as much as I don’t want to drink right now please bring on the Jager.