A Legacy of Loss

December 29, 2014 9:01 PM

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The graveyard is calm as I make my way through the headstones. There are no dark winged ravens watching me, no eerie silence haunting me as I walk. Just the sounds of car horns in the distance, the world carrying on as I make my way through the winding paths. My father died when I was 16. I do not know what he would have thought of my prom gown, or if he would have handed me his handkerchief on my wedding day. I do not know if my mother would have approved of my college major or how I handled the stressors of my first job. She died too, exactly four months and a week after my father took his last breath. I had just turned 17.

Loss is what I know. It seems a part of my very make up, imbedded into the core of my life. I never got to say goodbye to either of them. There were no parting words of forgiveness, no final acknowledgement of their pride in me. Only emptiness, silence, the loss of everything I had ever known. Pain ...

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