Aren’t we lucky canine teeth don’t bark

My father passed away 13 years ago today. Since losing him, I’ve learned that, for me, time does not heal.

To cope with my grief, I’ve come to realize that I can’t focus on how many years I’ve had without my father; I must focus on how many years I’ve spent with him—24.

My father always looked on the bright side no matter what, even when he was very sick with cancer. For him, family and friends were the most essential things in life. He also had a great sense of humour and believed laughter was the best medicine.

When I was living in Fredericton, New Brunswick, in the early 2000s, I emailed my father complaining that my wisdom teeth were sore. He replied and offered advice (see a dentist immediately) and hoped I’d get along well. He then ended the email with a P.S.

It said: ‘Aren’t we lucky canine teeth don’t bark.’ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

I miss you, Dad. ❤️