It's been one year today since I lost my dad. 

My last picture with Dad. I just now noticed he's using the pillowcase I sewed in 7th grade.

I suddenly thought of him just after noon, and when I looked at the clock, I discovered it was the time he passed away one year ago. It brought me back to the moment I learned that he'd gone, and what a strange feeling that was even though I'd had a couple weeks to prepare. I can only describe the month of March last year as an outer-body experience. I imagine that's a natural feeling, one of self-preservation. 

Dad at South Point in Hawaii. I always think of him there.

To be honest, today comes as a sort of relief, just as it did a year ago. The lead up and the waiting were somehow more painful than the reality. Because I tend to think of everything symbolically, it's also nice to have this year over and done, with no more first withouts, and with more good memories replacing the bad. 

Best friends, together again.

So today I'll scratch a cat and raise a glass of Diet Mt. Dew (but not drink it because no) to the memory of the man who I'm discovering I'm more and more like. And in that way he's never gone. 

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