My dad died a year ago today. Sometimes it feels like it just happened, and sometimes I look back on my life when he was around and can't help thinking it was a completely different time. I was lucky enough for a little while to have three parents who loved me. I had someone to discuss opera with, someone whose classical record collection makes most people's CD collections look tiny in comparison. I had someone with a solution for every computer problem that I ever ran into. He was this amazing force, and sometimes I was even lucky enough to realize it. I was also lucky enough to have two days with him, the last two, to get things right again between us after so many years of them being a little bit wrong. I see funny commercials that I know would have started him laughing uncontrollably, shaking his whole body, and I miss him. I think about how many changes my life is about to undergo (and has already, for that matter), and I wish I could talk to him. He told me sometimes that I didn't share enough of my news with him, probably because I was too busy. Now I tell him everything, even though he's not on the other side of the room, or the other end of the phone line, or the other side of the IM conversation. I wish I could hear his responses. It's absurd that he and I should have a better relationship now that he's dead, but I think that's how it is. I understand him now the way I never could when he was only in my reality. He comes to my dreams so often that I look forward to falling asleep in a way I never used to do.

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