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It's the fourth anniversary of Dad's death today. He died at 4.30 in the morning, April 2 2007.

Last year wasn't too bad, but this year has been hard. I cried on and off all day on Friday while I was at work, and I kept making stupid mistakes. In the end I used some of my flex time to go home an hour and a half early.

Today has been better - I find the 1st of April harder, because that was the day I watched him really go down hill and then he was sedated in the afternoon and never woke up. I am just taking the weekend very slowly and peacefully. Sometimes I feel sad, and sometimes it's just like normal. It's a reflective time. I think about him on and off through the year, too, and I think about what it would be like to talk to him about going to work in the city, like he did, and how it always seemed so big and grown up when I was little. He never saw me get my first professional job. He would be proud of me, I know, but it is not the same as seeing it.

I did go and get some flowers from the market - red and white roses - to mark the occasion. It feels good to have them. My grandmothers and several people who are close friends of our family have called to let us know that they too are marking the date, and missing him, and that we're not alone remembering him. That has been good.

I still remember what it felt like to touch his body, not entirely cool but not as warm as it should have been, solid and still. I remember the last time I touched him, shortly before his funeral. He was cold, but he looked peaceful. He felt very solid under my hand.


I love you Dad. Thank you.

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dzurlady

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