Today, I thought about my dad—just like I do every day. There was nothing special about today. It’s not his birthday, and it’s not the day he left for his forever home. But today, out of nowhere, I felt that crushing wave of grief—the kind that reminds you time doesn’t always heal a broken heart.
It’s the kind of grief you suppress because you know if you let it out, it might bring you to your knees. It’s the kind you hide because you can’t even bring yourself to explain to anyone what you’re crying about.
Is it the memories you hold onto? The smile you’ll never see again? The humming you’ll never hear again? The moments you’ll never get back—or the ones you’ll never have the chance to make? Is it not being able to pick up the phone and say “Hi, Dad”? Or is it that lingering feeling that you never did enough?
In that moment of grief, you realize it’s all of that—and more.
So, you let yourself look at a picture of him . . . and shed silent tears that seem to fall nowhere—and yet, everywhere.
Originally published on the author’s blog
by Samantha Lyn Walljasper 
by Lisa Leshaw 
by Angela Joyner 
