Out of the clear blue sky came a message from someone I’ve never met and probably never will meet.
She said she knew my Dad circa 1973 in Boulder, Colorado. She said he was a good, kind person, but that most of all she remembered him as funny. That they used to laugh and laugh. She even remembered how much he loved to play tennis. (Yes, the man did love tennis. Let’s just say you didn’t get between him and his tennis plans. Or his pre- and post-tennis stretching.)
And you know why she got in touch with me all of a sudden? Because she saw this blog. She saw Dad’s picture. And she realized. And she clicked “Contact.”
This Life After Loss is only a couple weeks old; I’m just at the beginning of writing in these pages for a year. But see, already good things have come of it. Good things happen.