Commemoration Day

My father died on this day a year ago. It seems forever ago. And it seems like just yesterday. It marked the beginning of my mourning--an event that was delayed for me for the seven years of his final illness--and that continues today. But I discovered this past year that my mourning is very fleeting. It's memories that blip across my mind briefly and then go. It's noticing my son's strong resemblance to my father when I catch him out of the corner of my eye. It's a thousand whispered prayers that take a moment. It's not an onerous task, this remembering, because I loved my dad when he was alive. I have no regrets for him.

Only those left behind to remember him.