As the door on 2014 softly closes, I think of you once more. It's three years since you passed away, yet I still remember you every day. I hear your voice in my head. I ask you questions. I miss so much: that feeling of safety and security that only a parent can give, your advice, your help, your presence.
But now you're gone to some place where I cannot find you. There is no grave for me to visit or lay flowers. Your ashes were scattered from the summit of a Scottish mountain, according to your wishes. So all that was left of you was borne away by the breeze to who knows where.