three

Today, three years ago, my dad passed away.

I thought I wanted to write about it. I did write about it. But it all sounded like everything I've said about it before. Because he's gone and nothing can change that, nothing can alleviate the utter permanency of the situation. I should have come to terms with that by now. I should know that there is nothing more for me to say about it, nothing anyone can say or do for me, and nothing that could ever make me stop wishing that things were different.

I miss him so much that I still can't deal with it on a day-to-day basis except to drink my coffee black and my martinis with Tanquray like he did.

This is all I have to say about it this year.