Stepping into every day is so dark after the loss of my Dad. I can’t even call him about opening day of Baseball. Then during Easter the discussion of the non existence of hell put me into another mode of anger. The 5 hour drive to Iowa was a blast!
I’m teaching Spanish to 7-12th graders. I’m living a dream of mine, but having some support would be nice at home. All frustrating. I feel like I’m complaining. But it’s hurting and every day is a reminder.
I never thought at 41 I would be talking about the death of a parent.
Adios for now