“Dad” I hear the boy next door yell.
“Yes buddy” the dad yells back.
This innocent little exchange between father and son is something that my children will no longer experience. The jokes, the stories, the banter that father and child naturally and freely exchange. Trips to the cricket, shooting hoops, watching them score a goal at water polo, listening to them perform a funny poem or just sitting in the audience as they proudly walk on stage to receive an award. Even the stern and serious times will all be missed.
As I slowly work through my own personal grief it is impossible to ignore that I have three amazing children who will never have the luxury of having someone answer when they yell