Dear Dad,

Last Thursday marked the three month anniversary of your last day on earth. Three entire months we've gone without seeing you. That's an entire summer vacation worth. It's hard to believe it's been that long but, at the same time, it seems like much longer. Stupid, right?

Today is another gorgeous day. It's sunny and somewhere in the 50s out there. I took the afternoon off of work, just like you would have done and then bummed around downtown a little bit and took a walk on the lakewalk, just like we would have done if you'd been with me today. It was bittersweet, just like so many other things have become since you died. God, I miss you.

On my way home from Canal Park, I was doing some thinking about you and realized that I feel more like you were cheated than those of us you left behind were. I know you're in heaven and you're blissfully, unexplainably happy, but I just wish heaven could have waited a little bit longer. Eternity, by its very definition, never ends so it's not like you would necessarily have been cheated by spending more time here with us. In three months alone, there are a zillion things I wish you could have done, things you could have seen, things you could have heard because I know they would have made you laugh your ass off. Then again, I suppose no time would have been the right time.

Love,
Angie