I’m not sure what the “proper” amount of time one is expected to spend mourning the loss of a parent. In my case it’s up until now. No writing, no editing, just the day to day work required to keep my bills and my bank account within waving distance.
Going forward, I think that I will be ok. I feel like my dad’s presence is still there. I still hear his advice when I’m contemplating doing something difficult, outrageous, or just plain stupid. It’s a voice I heard my whole life, whether he was actually there or not. I don’t expect I’ll ever stop hearing it. I wouldn’t want to.
My life needs to move on. I have new stories to tell, lessons I’ve learned to be shared, and new sunrises to see.
He got to read my first novel. He liked it. The sequel will be dedicated to him.
I think he’d like that too.