Twelve weeks ago, my father—the last of my direct ancestors—died. As I adjust to a world without dad, unfamiliar feelings are rising in me and I have been struggling to put words to them. Is this simply grief? Or is it symbolic of more? I feel like I am sitting motionless in water. Adrift, unmoored, … Continue reading Adrift
Almost every Saturday for the past three years, my father has walked through my front door for a weekly visit. We sat on the couch, drank tea and chatted about our lives.