The weirdest part of grief is you never know what exactly is going to make it come on. Sitting on my front porch on a beautiful autumn day, waiting for my youngest child to get home because she has a half day today. Then all the sudden tears start running down my cheeks because it should be Dad, not me, waiting on the porch to take a very special little girl to the diner for some rare one-on-one time. The fact that those moments are gone forever makes me feel like someone hit me across the chest with a baseball bat. I know the feeling will pass and she and I will have a great outing, but it doesn’t make the pain any less real in the moment.
