So my dad died. Two weeks ago, this morning. My life has been pretty crazy since; fucked up more like. So here I am, wide awake at 12:35 am on the second Sunday in a row that I haven’t been able to sleep. It kind of weird because it’s the night he died. I don’t know if it’s coincident or what. I regret not saying I love you the last night I saw him. I don’t know why I didn’t.I know there was nothing I could have done to save him but I wish there was. I wish I did. He didn’t even get to see me turn 18. It’s taken awhile for the feeling like he’s just gone on vacation to go away but it’s beginning to fade and the sad truth is settling in that he is truly gone. I miss my dad.