Thank you for sharing this.

My father died last year, and part of me died with him. I’m still a daughter, but I’m no longer the daughter of a living father. His house, the one I spent so many hours in, has been sold and remodeled, the bookshelf he built, ripped out, trashed. I can’t feel the warmth of his hugs anymore, but I still see him in dreams, in photographs, and in my mind’s eye. In this way, as a father-image, he will continue to live on throughout my life and the lifetimes of my siblings and their children.
The Coming Apocalypse
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K M Brown
Jonathan Townend, RMN - Editor - Friend of Medium
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Aug 11, 2021
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Thank you for sharing this. My own father killed himself when I was 10. Even now despite everything having move drastically forward, I'm 51 and still hold memories of them.
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Written by Jonathan Townend, RMN - Editor - Friend of Medium
3.4K Followers
·182 Following
Psychiatric Nurse Writer. Owner of Creative Passions, The Shortform, No Shame, World of Fiction publications, and co-editor for The Chocolate River.
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