My dad died in 2002, a few months before his 80th birthday. He’d been in declining health for several years and had Alzheimers, so it wasn’t unexpected. In fact, my brothers and I were amazed he hung on as long as he did.
In the years since then I’ve found that events like his birthday and what would have been my parents’ anniversary if they hadn’t gotten divorced don’t really impinge on my consciousness the way Father’s Day does.
My son put it best, the first Father’s Day I had without my dad. He said “You still have a father. It’s just that he’s not interested in material things any more.”
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I miss you.
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