The first anniversary of my dad’s death is approaching, and grief hit me like a punch in the stomach a few days ago.  I knew these few weeks would be tough, as I remembered in vivid detail the events of a year ago leading up to his death.  I’ve avoided writing in my journal for days at a time because I didn’t want to see what I’d written last year.  I was in a terrible mood for a few days and didn’t realize why at first.

There hasn’t been a single day in the past year when I haven’t thought of my dad.  There are photos of him in my office and throughout my house.  Sometimes the memories bring tears, often they bring smiles, and occasionally, they bring both at the same time.  But this recent grief was different.  It was like a dark cloud, a heavy weight — not just sad memories, but something more palpable.  My whole body felt depressed.

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