Six months · 4:50pm May 1st, 2019
Six months ago I lost my father. I can remember him for more than thirty seconds without crying, and the medications are working somewhat. The last thing Dad and I ever said to each other was "I love you". That alone makes it hurt less because he left knowing I didn't actually hate him, and wherever he is now I'm sure he knows I still don't.
I remember a few weeks before he died, Mom was at work and Dad and I watched our last football game together. He was bundled up on the loveseat with an oxygen tube in his nose, and I sat on the couch. Our last game together, I don't remember the other team, but I do remember the look on Dad's face when the Buckeyes won. Our favorite team won, and his tired blue eyes sparkled like he was a kid on Christmas.
Dad was, and always will be, a hero, a veteran and a wonderful father, and I miss him still, but I smile knowing he's not suffering anymore.
