July 12 is a hard day for me, friends. The memories are still vivid, as if they happened hours ago. Sometimes when I can’t fall asleep, I relive them.
July 12, 2013. A Friday.
I received three phone calls that day. The first was from Dad, about mid-morning, his usual weekly check-in. He called to chat and say hello to his granddaughters whom he saw only a handful of times a year due to the miles between us. It was a pleasant conversation. We had just visited him the week before, and he had plans to come out to see us soon. We ended it with, “I love you,” and hung up.
That evening, the second phone call came. This one from my brother, a tone in his voice that instantly made me tremble.
“Dad collapsed. He’s in the ambulance now.” Continue reading “What I would tell someone fresh to grief”