This is the last photo, the last story, for a while at least.
Two years ago today, my father died from complications with leukemia.
One week ago, I started telling about his family history so that I could understand both him and myself more.
Now I have even more questions and yet it doesn't matter because the only thing that helps is sharing these stories and knowing that I'm not the only one pondering their lives.
It helps to write because it's where I feel the most and can finally break down (writing through the tears now).
Thank you all for reading and for feeling it all with me a little so I don't have to do it alone.
And there's so much more and there's not enough time and there's perfect timing.
It's all sifting through my fingers this morning and I'm left with only innocence.
We are all so innocent, wearing our pride to cover our hurts which only covers our fear, which is just another whispering voice from the past.
We can work with the past.
We can trust in the future. Love wins. I know this because my dad taught me.
So goodbye again dad.
Today I will light fire for you, touch water for you, and remembering the great meaning of your life as my own every time my feet once again touch the ground.