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I've been sitting here for thirty minutes, touching the keyboard for a few seconds then pulling my fingers away like they're about to be smacked with a ruler, only to put them back again and repeat the process.  This is the hardest entry I've made, deciding whether I want to share with you (if there are any of you) that my father died last Monday. 

It has been an exhausting week of reliving my entire 37 years with him in my head and even though I keep telling myself I cannot change the past, the core of me refuses to believe it.  Someone I love said "I wish life could have been different" and I wish it too.  The rational side of me knows it all made me what I am today but I still keep on wishing.

Someone I didn't know said he talked about me all the time and I hope I made him proud.  I loved him, for good or bad, and miss him.  My niece said "I can't stop thinking of him" and that's how it should be, no matter how much it hurts because to forget is worse.

Rest in peace, Daddy-o.  You're with the ones you love, the fish are biting, and the races are about to start.
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