I lost my dad.

He died on New Year’s Eve.

I miss him every day.

It happened so very fast.

I can still hear his voice.

I miss him always trying to feed me.

I wish we could just sit and talk about anything–even if it means he ends up being right.

I keep expecting him to get out of his chair and give me a kiss every time I go to the house.

I wish I could have known him when he was younger.

I wish I appreciated him more when I was growing up.

I wish he would just boss me a round a bit so that things could feel normal again.

He was not easy. But he was mine.

I hate saying “was.”

I want to see him haggling and bullshitting with his buddies at the flea market.

I wish he could golf one last time.

I need him to be with my mom again.

I want to hear him call her Sweetheart.

I want to see them kiss.

I want my mom to not be so lonely.

I feel. Everything.

I cry when I see his picture.

I feel guilt that I couldn’t do more.

I wish he had more time.

I want him back home.

I want to feel peace.

I would give almost anything for one more day.

I am grateful that I can be some help to my mom, even if I can’t be with her every day.

I know that things could have ended worse.

He finally just went to sleep.

I’m glad I got to say goodbye.

I’m thankful I got my last words out.

I’m glad he gave me such lovely last words.

I don’t talk about him much. It’s too hard.

He’s my daddy and I already dread the day I really need to talk to him and he won’t be there.

I can still hear his voice.

It all happened so very fast.

I miss him every day.

He died on New Year’s Eve.

I lost my dad.

© DRB 2021