I miss my Dad today.

I was frantically trying to convince my final letter-writer that he could, in fact, write a letter of recommendation for a chick he had in one class four years ago, and so was digging through some old files looking for a paper I'd written way back in the day to send to him in the hopes it would refresh his memory.

The first CD I tried said "Papers and Dad stuff", and when it opened, there were all of the thumbnails of the pictures from his funeral looking right back at me. Dad when he was goofy (which was a good portion of the time), Dad when he was being sweet (also a good portion of the time), Dad doing Christmas stuff, Dad hanging out with family, even little Dad in the head-to-toe 1950's cowboy look.

So of course, I cried like a little girl, got mad at God, Dad, the universe, and everything, and have walked around periodically tearing up all day.

His goal after his diagnosis and initial stage of giving life the proverbial finger was to make it long enough for Sam to remember him. He made it. Sam was in his second month of kindergarten when Dad died, and can tell Dad stories of his own, not just the ones that we tell him. Is it too terribly selfish to wish that he could have lived long enough for Noah and Abbey to remember him, too? I can read statistics as well as anybody else- I know what the survival rate for Stage IV cancer of any kind is, I know he fought for much longer than expected, and I wouldn't have wanted him to stick around like he was just to make me happy.

But dang it, there are days when I want to make a cup of tea and talk politics and play poker. Or have breakfast while he reads the latest draft of one of my papers, or watch him hug Mom or make Sam (or Noah or Abs) laugh. Nevermind that it's been over three years now since we lost him.

Blech. Apparently today is a mauldlin sort of day. It must be the weather. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm sick enough that I really should be in bed, but I'm not.

I'm really not sure what the point of all this was, except to say that I am sad. I'm going to go get my sweet baby now and do some snuggle therapy.

Be well.