I’m binge watching The Crown today while I wait for antibiotics and steroids to kick and make me feel better. The death of King George VI took me by surprise. Not that I didn’t know it was coming, obviously the story is familiar.
I nearly wept. Elizabeth’s loss brought me right back to July 6, 1989, when my own father died in his sleep a long way away. I had been back home for about two weeks. Back in Texas from a nice long visit with our daughters to my parents in New York. I started the morning thinking that I was finally caught up with the things neglected while we were gone. Not long after, my husband unexpectedly arrived back home from work bringing me the news.
1989. It’s still as fresh and sometimes as raw as it was 28 years ago. And it continues to take me by surprise. I guess this “girl” will never get over needing her Dad.