Memphis’ first snow of the season reminded me of my daddy, and got me to thinking about how differently we can mourn the loss of each parent.
Dad grew up in Connecticut and had a lot more experience with fierce winters than me. He once won a snowball fight so completely that I opened my coat and a wall of white spilled out.
My father rests from shoveling snow after an unusually large dump of snowfall in the Memphis area in 1988.
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