I have letters in a box. Old tattered letters. Letters my grandmother wrote to my father. I remember seeing them a few weeks before he died. I noticed them on the dresser and I identified the handwriting. I said "those are grandmother's letters !". He said "yes, they will go with me till the grave." Tears wallowed in his eyes.
"I still miss her" he added. It had been years . I shared his sadness in that moment. Today I am thinking of my dad. He is a part of me. I miss him so . I can barely breathe. There are things that he left behind. Things that mean so much because he loved them. There are pieces of my life and his life all around me. I think of how he felt losing his mom and I understand. The pain is there so deep. He will always be a part of me till the day I die.
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