And so it has been 9 years since my eldest passed away.  Yesterday was his 9th death anniversary.  In the Orthodox Christian tradition prayers are said at the grave.  

Time has flown and life goes on.  My other children and I discuss how, if he was still here during this pandemic, he would have been so fearful for his family and would have been handing out instructions left right and centre on the best ways to protect oneself etc (he was paranoid about illness).  He always worried for everyone else.  But his humour kept him sane.

Missing a person who has passed never quite goes away.  It hurts physically less.  But sometimes, unexpectedly, I find myself missing him intensely.