Remembering Doria

One Father's Journey after the Death of his Daughter

One Sweet Hour

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Apparently, the ‘reblog’ button and I can’t play well together, but this is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever read. Go read it now. I’ll bounce back in later.






As soon as I saw that picture, I thought “Doria” without hesitation. No offense to anybody else, but I want that hour that I never had. I picture hugging her as she walks up (or after I run her way), saying “I love you, Dori” and sitting on that bench with my arm around my daughter, even in silence, for an hour. That’s perfection.

The end of the hour would probably be awful, but I can deal with that disappointment after the hour of perfection. 


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