Yesterday marked the one year anniversary of my father's death. His death came as a complete surprise to friends and family alike. My father was 65. There were few men in their 30's or 40's who were as fit and dedicated to diet and exercise as my dad. In fact, he died in the late afternoon sunshine while riding his mountain bike after a full day of work. The past year has been one of shock and incredible pain for so many people who knew and loved my father.

Heart disease runs in my father's side of the family, his father and sister died of heart attacks and another brother had multiple by-pass surgery in his early 40's. In light of the family history, my father spent a good part of his life exercising and eating well in order to live a better life. There wasn't a member in our family who thought for a moment that we would lose him so soon and with no chance to say good-bye.

Many of us have spent the last year trying to let go and say our good-byes. These are one sided conversations because my dad is no longer here. Picking up the pieces and repairing our lives is something we strive for everyday. 365 days does not make anything better or magically heal the pain. We lost a great man in the span of just a few breaths, that will never change. But we have made it through one year and we are still standing, that counts for something.