Today would have been my Dad's 75th birthday.
His passing last March was too quick, too early. He was still young, at least at heart.
I miss him every day, and yet I feel him with me now all the time. I feel him when I do something that he used to do, some mannerism or turn of a phrase or something. I feel him when I see something that he would have enjoyed. I feel him when I'm reliving memories of him.
I'm very grateful for his presence in my life. It's very comforting to feel that he's still with me, even though he's passed on.
Happy Birthday, Dad. I love you.
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