Dear Dad,

I miss your phone voice. Do you even know what I'm talking about? Maybe it's one of those things you did without realizing you were doing it. You always put on your gruffest, deepest voice when talking to people you didn't know on the phone. Also when speaking to waitresses. You made "regular coke" sound more intimidating than anybody else I've ever met. Every time I called home that you didn't look at the caller id (which was EVERY TIME I called), you answered sounding all angry and for a second I wondered if I caught you in a bad mood. Then I realized, duh, you're never really in a bad mood. Or if you were, you certainly never let the negativity affect a conversation with one of your children (unless, of course, Mike was being an idiot.) As soon as I said hi, you slipped into the regular Fahj voice and said, "Welllll, hiiii Angela." Holy shit, do I miss your voice. And your smile. And your laugh. And the way you smelled like the woods whenever you hugged me goodbye. And the way you always cleared your throat before you fell asleep.

I think I'm officially in the depression stage of grieving. It's the only stage I've not yet mentioned to you in my letters because I forgot all about it until I was in it. And now? I'm so damn sad. It's been almost two months since I've seen you...absolutely the longest I've ever gone without some Fahj in my life. And, you know, two months wouldn't even be that bad if I knew I'd be seeing you again. The fact that I won't is tearing me apart.

Last night I had a dream about my wedding and you were there. It wasn't even that exciting that you were there. It was just like you never left...like it should be. You were just hanging out, being Dad, doing some yard work before the wedding, happy as can be. I'm so afraid that I will spend my entire wedding day crying my eyes out and that they won't be tears of joy.

I have made a little pact with myself now that you're watching over me to not get shitfaced enough to make you ashamed of me until my bachelorette party (let's face it, all bets are off that night), and I'm proud to say I passed my first test! Red had a little party last weekend and I managed to keep my drinking under control enough to remember fairly clearly everything that happened around me. For every beer I drank, I drank at least one glass of water or pop. It was a shining moment for me. I know you sometimes thought I had a drinking problem and I did, but not in the addiction sense. No, my problem is of the do-lots-of-really-obnoxious-and- embarrassing-shit-much-of-which-I-don't-remember-the-next-day-which-is-worse- than-actually-knowing variety. The point of the story? I hope to be growing up...but FUCK, I could have done it without you dying.

I don't even know what else to say. I'm at a loss. Just know it's breaking my heart that I can't call you right now to see how your week is going.

Love,
Angie