How Long?

I was thinking about my dad today.

It's coming up on the 19th anniversary of his passing.  People say it gets easier with time.  My question is, how much time does it take before it gets easier?  Nineteen years and I still miss him as much as I did the day he died.

More, really, because now that I've gotten a little older and have been a parent myself, I can appreciate him more than I did as a teenager, or even as a young adult.  Especially now, during life's more difficult moments when I wish I were a kid again, and could crawl up into his lap and know that no matter what, everything would be OK. 

I was thinking about my dad today.

I remembered when he died.  I went home to Texas, to his house.  My cousin Lynda came by to see us.  She is quite a bit older than I am, and I hadn't seen her in probably 15 years.  When I saw her come in the door, I went to hug her, and I just fell apart in her arms.   I hadn't really wept up until that point.  I'd teared up a few times, and snuffled a good bit, but that was when the dam broke.  I couldn't stop myself from crying.

Back then, I wasn't much of a crying kind of person.  Now, that I'm going through The Change, I cry at the drop of a hat.  And sometimes I cry when the hat doesn't drop.  Sometimes I cry for no reason at all.  But when I was younger, I didn't cry.  Ever. 

But that day, I did.  And today, I did.  Remembering that moment, I wept.  At work.  Huddled over my brazing stand hoping no one would notice that I was over there bawling.  But I cried.

I was thinking about my dad today.

And I wondered, when does it get easier?