Inheritance
This week marks ten years since my father was given the gift of a new liver and kidney. That life-saving surgery gave my family six more precious years with a man we treasured immensely. In a roundabout way, I was reminded of all the priceless (some tangible, some more abstract) gifts that were given to me by him posthumously. I don't remember well the morning my dad died, as it was a bit of a blur that I don't care much to recall. What I do remember is leaving a very ill man the night before and promising him I'd return the following day. When the morning came, I can remember my phone vibrating next to me as I was awakening from the early sun. It was my aunt. I let it go to voicemail, as my heart already knew, and it just couldn't handle hearing those words. My best friend. My default... my safe place. My dad . I still have my dear aunt's dreadful message from that day in my voice-mailbox. Not saved, but not deleted. And certainly never repeated. Everything that h...