The last few weeks it's been building up and today, four months later, it really sunk in.
My dad's gone. I will never talk to him again. I keep forgetting he's dead lately, I keep thinking to myself, I better call dad, I haven't talked to dad in a while. When he died, we were pretty much estranged from each other - spoke to him once every six months and that was it. The last time I talked to him, he called me for computer help a few months before he died. It was a bad time, I told him i'd call him back. I was going through some depression at the time - I never ended up calling him back. I blew him off.
Every time I scroll through the contacts on my phone I see 'Dad' there and his number. I want to press the button and call him every time. It's funny, when he was alive I dreaded even hearing his voice when I picked up the phone, and now that he's dead, I want to call him, apologize for what a terrible son he's been, tell him I love him and I miss him. Tell him I want him to meet my wife and see that I've become a man and self sufficient and don't need him to worry about me anymore. Tell him he didn't fail me as a father as much as I made him believe he did. But I can't. I'm never going to see him again, call him again, hear his voice again. I can hardly even remember what he sounded like. When he died, I'd spoken to him three times in as many years.
the moral of this story is call your fucking dad.
