Every Autumn, My Dad Dies Again.

In honor of a man who’s gone, but far from forgotten. In celebration of the fact that I can once again love fall, just as I love my dad, for all that they really are… a thing of insurmountable beauty.


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Autumn Leaves.”

Autumn is a time of beautiful colors. We watch the changing leaves shift us into another season. We gather the ones that have fallen in to large piles to jump in. We hear them crunch beneath our feet as we walk to our cars, schools, and jobs.

We dig out our beloved hoodies. Sit around campfires with our friends. Soak in the gorgeous sunsets glittering across the colorful trees . For most, Fall is but another season to love and cherish.

I, on the other hand, approach Fall as lovingly as the Grinch approaches Christmas. Fall is the signal of impending doom. There is nothing beautiful about Fall. It is about as beautiful as the Black Plague, or the onslaught of Ebola. Fall, is the symbolic representation of death. The entire world is dying around us, and yet, everyone smiles…

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Categories: 2016

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