I Miss You, Dad

I'm back in Minnesota getting ready for Dad's memorial service. And I'm totally hating this! I don't want to be remembering him, I want him to be here with me. I know that's a natural reaction. But I feel so empty. I miss my daily calls with him. I miss talking sports or books with him. I just miss knowing that he's there for me. And I hate knowing that I lied to him. I told him that it was okay to go, but it wasn't. He needed to hear that - we couldn't have him continue to hang on. But dad, don't be mad at me for that. I hated seeing you in so much pain, and not the way that you wanted to be. But forgive me for wanting you to always be in my life. It's strange being at your house, but you're not there. And I can't call you and talk about how exciting it was to watch my Hokies win the first game in the NCAA tournament at the last second. Do you know that I almost called, but then realized that you weren't there? And then after we lost that horrible game, I know what you would have said about it. Somehow you have to let me know that you're still watching my games with me.