My mother was born on the 1st of December 1958, so December is always a time of the year when I find myself thinking about how it would be to still have her in my life now that I am in my mid-twenties, almost 10 years after her death.
This is a letter/poem I wrote for my Dad, describing my grief, and everything that comes with it, 11 months after his death (07.01.2018).
“It's said it takes seven years to grow completely new skin cells. To think, this year I will grow into a body you never will have touched.” - Brett E. Jenkins
I suppose my advice to you, the reader(s) is to teach yourself to not just exist without your loved one, strive to do great things for them.
I’ve deliberated long and hard how to write you in a way you’ll understand so I hope this makes sense and will help guide you.
Growing up I experienced a lot of death. My twin brother, my dad, both granddads and my uncle all died before I was legally a ‘grown up’.
Meet the skateboarders bringing inclusivity to the sport.