Today would have been his 63rd birthday.

Naturally, losing one’s Father hits a person hard, especially if you had the same caring and respectful relationship that I did with my Father, but to lose him so close to my birthday, and also so close to his, has had a massive impact upon me.

It still seems like this is one big giant mistake or misunderstanding. That he might show up one day and say “What the hell!? You thought I was dead!? I was on a MUCH needed vacation and forgot to tell you!”, yet those thoughts are more painful than anything else. Pretending that he hasn’t passed away doesn’t make it easier… it makes it harder. I just still can’t believe he is gone. Doesn’t seem possible.

People have been telling me that eventually the pain will subside and life will go on. I know they mean well, and I thank them for those comforting words, but from my standpoint, my heart has been ripped out of my chest and I don’t think the pain will ever go away. To tell the truth, right now, I don’t want it to… it seems like that would be diminishing his memory in some way.

For me, it will forever feel like something is lacking in the world, and I honestly never thought I would say this, but I would give anything to hear him tell one of his god-awful “Dad Jokes” right about now.

Happy birthday, old man. I’m celebrating it in your absence.