Happy birthday, Dad.
...Thinking about you today, I realized that I don't remember any of your birthdays. I guess I must have told you happy birthday that last May; maybe that memory of going to the movies with you and Laura and Margaret is from your birthday. Or maybe some other vision remains tucked away.
But today, I can't think about any of this without being really, really angry. You are not with me to celebrate anything anymore. Not your birthday, or my graduation; you didn't even know that I would get into college let alone to Northwestern. You're not here to comfort my fears about the future. You're not here to tell dumb jokes so I stop taking life so seriously. You're not here to help me learn to be an adult in this crazy, mixed-up world.
I will never call anyone else Dad. I will never take anyone else's name.
And I will never forget you, no matter how angry I am.
I say goodbye to you a little more every time.