It’s been ten years since Papa left us.
Ten years – and still, some days it feels like just yesterday. They say time heals all wounds, but grief doesn’t quite follow the rules of time. It moves differently. It lingers. It holds space in our hearts like a quiet shadow, ever-present, never fully gone.
I think there’s no such thing as proper grieving. No roadmap. No finish line. For some, it might soften with the years. For others, like us, it stays. Not because we’re stuck in the past, but because love like his leaves a mark too deep to fade.
Maybe we never really “get over” grief. Maybe we’re not meant to. Maybe the point isn’t to move on, but to live through it – to carry the weight with grace, to find meaning in the ache, to choose life even when it hurts.
And so, we do.
We keep living. We keep growing. We laugh, we cry, we stumble, we rise. We remember Papa not only in our tears, but in every little thing we do with love, courage, and integrity.
I believe he’s proud. Proud to see us carry on. Proud to see us becoming.
Papa, we miss you and love you. Every single day.
