365 days, 52 weeks, 12 months, 1 year. i fucking hate numbers and time. half of my dna left me with only 24 years under my belt. a drop in the bucket compared to the time i thought we’d have together. for 24 years, i missed you any moment i wasn’t with you, but this year was different- this year, i’m missing from you and you’ve been missing from me. i sometimes did consider giving in to the sadness of a life without you. who could ever love me like you, dad? who could ever celebrate me like you? push me, irritate me, inspire me, encourage me, fight me — like you? i wait for you to show up like i would wait for you to show up at basketball games, school plays, saturday afternoons on nantasket beach. for 12 months i’ve waited for you to show up as the sun on my skin when i hang my arm out of the car window. i wait for you to show up and tug at the corners of my mouth like strings on a puppet to make me smile. i wait for you to show up in a dream, on the clouds, at the bottom of an empty bottle... i wait and wait and wait. finally, you show up. you show up as you always did with your big plans, big dreams, big ideas and big ego whispering in my ear to say something, feel something, be something. i’ve begged and pleaded and bargained for just one more hug, one more kiss, one more walk together hand in hand. but we are the same, so i know our truth; one more of anything is never enough for us. we dream and scheme, love and fight, plan and procrastinate. over & over & over. no one stops us. they never did, they never could. we never let them before you left, we never will now that you’re gone. the next time i hold you, i know i’ll be home. until then i’ll wait. i’ll wait and i’ll wait and i’ll wait a thousand times more because i know you’re there, but you’re here, too. you weren’t crazy. you were just suffering silently. suffering loudly. outspoken in celebration and silent in suffering