My dad passed away at forty-eight.
The house was still filled with people that afternoon—neighbors, relatives, coworkers whispering quietly in the living room. Everything felt unreal, like the world had slowed down while I stood in the middle of it, unable to breathe.
I was seventeen, sitting on the edge of the couch, holding the sleeves of Dad’s old jacket …
👇 👇 👇 👇 👇
