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I went to my Dad’s grave today.  I’m always stunned by the silence although given its full of dead people I get it.  I don’t like the silence but I get it.  His headstone looked bleak, without flowers it looks like nobody visits but I do.  You can see where I stand, my feet have worn the grass away.  You can see where I kneel to whisper- to him, the ground beginning to expect my weight.  Even when the ground is wet I  kneel.  I know he can’t here my whispering but I still do it.  I know exactly what he’d say in reply.  I just wish he was here to say the words.

My Dad taught me how to cook & we spent many hours in the kitchen together.  Our kitchen really was the heart of our home as is mine.  I love when we’re all in my kitchen, we have a great time & stay way longer than we should.  When the kids leave & I sit at my table alone I often think of my Dad.  He’d have loved being in amongst the chaos of mealtimes.  Life goes on but o how I wish we could go back in time.  I wouldn’t need to stay long except I’d never want to leave.

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