Some wounds heal...

Some wounds heal. Others do not. Some blokes face reality however tragic. Others choose not to. It's been five years now. Five years is a long time. Five years ago my children were 2 1/2 years and 6 weeks old. Just babies who didn't get to know their daddy's brother. But they'll indirectly learn of him, more as they get older, albeit somewhat after the fact. And they get the fact that daddy's brother is also their cousin's daddy who is gone, they get that. There are photos and I do occasionally call one of my boys Hunter, not sure why. My oldest reminds me of him in several ways, my youngest reminds me of him in many ways. Healing and grieving and loss, it's just semantics. Try, don't try, whatever. Mourning is complete and necessary and uncompromising. It's the delicate balance of life and death. But what the hell would I know about it. Five years and my garage is still stacked with everything he owned. Some wounds heal, others won't. Not yet.