Here's a photo of me with my dad, Mihalis Mavreas, in his hospital room the month he died, sometime in September 2018.
It's cropped. My brother and my son are in the background playing.
I miss him even though he aggravated the heck out of me at times. I have lot's of petty and some not so petty complaints about him. I also love him and wish he was around and healthy so I can foist my kid onto him and watch them do their thing.
It's been a year plus and grief is strange. My mom, who I visited yesterday for the first time in too long, has her ups and downs. She wore a white t-shirt under her black blouse for the first time yesterday, she said.
Greeks are heavy enough as it is without death around. With death, holy cow.
That's all I've got for now.