My father was a King.

His dominion was nestled along the westernmost border of Indiana, stretching from Dana to Clinton and finally St. Bernice, communities unknown to most of us, but the cherished home to many grounded, strong folks like my father.

It will soon be four months since his death on Wednesday, June 16, 2010. Daddy died one month before my wedding–a circumstance that has made my grief process awkward and clouded.

I’m still receiving e-mails regarding my father’s legendary impact on others. Most senders have a special memory of him and express their appreciation that his tombstone fittingly reads “King” Richard J. Lewman, Jr.

I’d have it no other way.

Photo credit: J.D. Phillips

1 thought on “Grief”

  • The picture at the end is priceless. It could be any road off a cornfield, dirt, usually straight, leading into a small town with miles of square farmland on either side. Horizon as far as you can see in all directions. I really miss that land and the drives.I have never seen any quite like it in the US.

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