The Death of a Beloved One and the Thoughts that Follow

It is days like these I miss him the most. As I walked through a town I used to call home filled with melancholia and was reminded why I love this city, I heard a phone call in the distance. In a split second, my father was still alive and calling me, to tell me to come home soon. I pinch of guilt and joy over the fact that he was still alive shot through me. Until I "woke up" realising that I was daydreaming and I was left with the guilt.
It is over three years ago that he died. Time has just flown by, though in some points of my life, it just stands still in an endless moment of time, where my father is alive somewhere. Still breathing. Still thriving. I don't believe I ever will loose this feeling of timelessness at one point in me, where the memory of my father still lives, though all other memories of him seems to fade.
Though death is never a pleasent experience, and an experience I will never wish for any one, one good thing came out of all the pain and the mess it caused. My siblings are not just my siblings anymore. They are my friends, two people in the world I most confide in. We are very closely connected and I will not exchange that for anything.

"I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil." J. R. R. Tolkien