I struggle a little bit, every year, on what to write on this day. I try my hardest to focus on the positive, sugar coating certain feelings with flowery sentiments and words. I tend to over-deliver, painting pictures that are grandiose, though blurry. Just enough static around the edges to make the harsh things easily digestible.

There are four of us, and in true family form, we each had a different child hood, because while we all had the same father, we all actually had a different dad.

While I can remember things so clearly, things are also changing in my brain. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m getting older. Maybe it’s the almost dying. But no matter what I had growing up, it’s what I had. We cannot take it back. We cannot do it over. We can only grow, and learn, and love everyone closer to us a little bit more, righting the mistakes we feel others have made. Being a little better than those who came before us.

And that is truly the biggest thing I learned from my dad. I hope that for the past 13 years you’ve been able to rest in peace, because in the end, that’s all we can hope for.