My father passed three years ago and I continue to mourn, sometimes it comes in short spurts and sometimes in waves. I don't think I've cried much over it, not as much as I "feel I should have", but I believe we all mourn differently. Amidst the mourning have been some really great memories. I'm starting to see these stages of grief as my way of honoring my parents, and that's pretty cool.
"Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty, and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming---*WOW-What a ride*!"