Today marks 20 years since my dad’s death. I think I write something about it almost every year, but I felt like 20 years is the kind of milestone that requires particular attention.
I don’t really know what to say, though.
All I can really think to say is I sometimes consider how different my life would have been if he had survived. Or, you know, if no one even burned down our house in the first place. I probably would have stayed in Wisconsin, gone to college there, and be about a million times different than I am today. I obviously don’t like that I lost my father, but I like who I am. People say everything happens for a reason, and maybe that’s true. But never without sacrifice.