My parents are dead. My Dad’s truck slid on a patch of black ice coming home from their anniversary dinner and ran them into a concrete wall. They were both dead before the paramedics even got to the scene. There’s nothing I can do to change that. And that’s okay.
I’m going to miss them for the rest of my life. It would be ridiculous to imagine that I wouldn’t. But if I don’t find a way to move forward—then I’m just disrespecting the memory and the legacy they left in my hands. I will do right by them.