My daughter said that about her dad.
I never saw the resemblance till she pointed to it.
There are no photos of him in view at her house.
I have his photos everywhere.
Her younger sister and I share anecdotes of him.
The older one not so much.
I remember she was ten when I lost my dad.
She dearly clung to her daddy that day
more than her persona allowed.
Grief’s gaping hole rips and drags at
varying speeds, times, and depths.