The anniversary of my mom's death is tomorrow, and my dad wrote this really insightful reflection of what that anniversary means—
"Well 10 years tomorrow since Misty died. I've been trying to think of something profound and beautiful to say marking the occasion but the ugly reality is her passing left a huge hole in the lives of a lot of people that can never quite be filled. For me there's 18 years of memories that I largely don't have anyone else to reminisce with about. Or the sad knowledge of how much she looked forward to being a grandma which is such an exquisite rip off now that the time is here and she isn't around to enjoy it. Yes the kids grow up and the world moves on with new relationships and unforeseen adventures but it's like getting lost on a strange detour knowing I can never quite find my way back. RIP Misty I think about you every day."
The idea of a loved one's death being an unexpected journey you know you can never quite return from—it's a perfect description of the sadness that remains, even when you move on.