by Nicole Trilivas
My father died last week. From the moment I heard the news, I instinctively knew I’d never be the same. I’m sitting in my childhood bedroom watching the November rain make the last of the green leaves heavy. The yellowed leaves have already been blown away. Scattered. Dispersed. There is no specific “where” to go from here. It’s just “go.” We move forward whether we want to or not, don’t we?
Wishing you and your loved ones a happy month of November.