It’s been 18 years, Dad.
In less than a week, I’ll be living three miles from where you died. I remember when I couldn’t dream of driving through the intersections of Broad Rock and Belt.
I went that way last week. Like the first time I drove past it after your death, I didn’t intend on it.
I showed your daughter-in-law where you breathed your last.
I still don’t know if I ever want to set foot in that building again, though.
I miss you, dad.
I love you.