I find it strange that my life just goes on as it always has. Its been 2 weeks since dad passed away and it doesn't yet seem possible that the man who raised me isn't still sitting in his chair, waiting for me to call.

My dad wasn't perfect but I always knew that if I needed him for anything he would be there. He would drive across country to pick me up if necessary, anything for his little girl.

The sadness washes over me in gentle waves at random times. Out of the blue a memory will pop into my head, mostly of his last days. Sometimes just the realization that he's gone will drive by and wave.

I miss him! I miss the knowledge that he was there. It seems like we sat in his hospital room for days, watching the progression that seemed so subtle to us all but seemed so rapid to the doctors and nurses. Then at that final moment it was over so quickly. Too quickly. One last breath and that was it. I just wish I had a little more time ya know?

My dad is coming to the end of his life.

We are now talking in terms of months, not years.

He is starting to finalize certain things and I've promised to scatter his ashes in the Park.

Throughout my entire life we had somewhat of a tumultuous relationship so I didn't expect to feel this way.

It doesn't feel good.