My father

It's been a very long time since I last wrote.

My father died on March 19. I was with him. So were my mom, brothers, sisters, brother-in-law, sisters-in-law, and my youngest daughter. It still seems surreal. It's not a fading memory, but vivid with details. The softness of his skin, his movements, his labored breaths, his whisper-thin voice. I think about those last minutes all the time. I think about him when I run, when I shower, when I ride the bus to work. He was very old, as in, maybe only a million people in the country were older than him, so he went out in Rockwellian fashion: surrounded by family with his wife of 61 years at his side. I guess that's how I want to go out. But I also think that a long walk in the woods wouldn't be bad.

I miss you, Daddy.