My Dad

My dad passed away four years ago. There hasn’t been a day since that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to lose my father.

I remember one day in high school, ages ago, I lashed out at a kid, who must have done something to upset me, and called him a cuss word about his father. I remember that he froze up and tears welled up in his eyes. Other kids told me that his father passed away. I felt horrible. I did my best to apologize and to make up for my insensitivity and we ended up being friends.

It hits you like a freight train. There’s no mitigating it, and there’s no softening of the blow.

Four years later, I still think of my father every single day.

I can remember when my dad used to talk fondly of his own father and the tales he used to tell us from his childhood. It was obvious that my dad missed his dad too.

I only wish that I can lead a life that would honor his. My dad made plenty of sacrifices for my and my siblings’ sake. The least I can do is try my best to make him proud.

I miss you, dad. Rest in peace.


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