Today, Sunday Feb 13, is the 15 year anniversary of when my dad died. I actually kind of forgot about it until last night. What strikes me is the 15 year thing---he died when I was 15, now I'm 30, so for as many years as I had him in my life I have also lived without him. He was a good man, far from perfect and slightly odd, but that part doesn't really matter to me. I'm sure my memories are clouded and I dare say that my relationship with him was very different than that of my brothers (as they are considerably older than myself). But, he loved me, I love(d) him, and now that's all that matters.
Miss you dad. You'd be proud of me. I've accomplished a lot and have some great things yet to come. Thanks for the memories.
your only daughter.
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