My father was not only my dad, but the most awesome person on the planet to me. He was a contributor, not a taker. I'm having trouble finding joy since he passed in February. Sometimes I feel guilty because I don't love life nearly as much as he did, and feel that it should have been me that left instead of him. He loved every minute of his life and never complained, not even when the cancer got the best of him. The world is not nearly the place it was with him alive, and I'm wondering if I'll ever feel happy again. As time marches on, the loss gets more significant as I begin to realize that he's not coming back. I miss him more every day.
