20 Year Grief-A-Versary
My father died when I was twelve years old. I have written down that sentence more times than I can count. Why, you ask? Because it’s something that has haunted me, characterized me, made me who I am. It is all I knew about who I was since the moment it happened. From that moment forward it became my whole identity, my personality. I was the girl with no father. It meant that I was allowed to be perpetually sad, undeniably misunderstood, mysteriously guarded.