Kelly Rogers

Writer focused on fiction for middle-aged women with spunk


As I swim through grief over losing my father in February, I am also processing the concept of loss itself. My father is not really lost. I know where he is and is not.

I will never hear his voice on the phone again. He won’t be physically present at family events. He won’t be there when I need to ask advice. My father is still not lost. I know where he is and is not. And while I am sad at where he is not, he is still not lost to me.

Nobody we love deeply is ever lost to us. They are in us, around us, and woven into the tapestry of our minds and hearts. I don’t have to look for my father for I know where he is and is not.

My father will always be here in some way, and I will honor him as I move towards this phase of my life.


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