I would have written this piece on Father's Day but I didn't want to be selfish. I didn't want to turn a happy occasion to a sad one. So I'll write it today, some days after Father's Day. I don't think I was ever told what death was. Not even now. No one ever sat with me to have that "talk", the one that tries to soften the tough blow reality has dealt you. I just… knew. And i knew pretty young too. Like they say, experience is the best teacher. Unfortunately, this was a lesson it handed me too early, in my honest opinion. Over the years, I’ve tried to understand death—sometimes with anger, sometimes with sympathy. I’ve written letters to it and gotten no answers. It’s been 15 years since November 22nd, 2009. I was four years, eleven months, two weeks, and a day old. My first real encounter with death. Too young to understand. Too old to ever forget. I wrote my first tribute at six. Now that I think about it, that was probably my earliest publishe...
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