Two years gone

Dear Dad,

Monday it was two years that you've been gone. Some days it seems like a long time, other days just yesterday. People keep telling me it gets better, still waiting for it to happen, though. In those two years, I've realized a bunch of things.

First, just how much like you I am. When I was a teen, that thought would have horrified me. Now that I'm older, I think it's pretty cool, especially since we didn't live in the same house.

Second, I appreciate your abhorrence of working in the cold. I really understand why the heat in your truck was always on full-blast in the winter. I do the same thing, Jason hates it. I can't set the thermostat at home to full-blast, so I spend the winter wrapped up in blankets and shawls. And do I have to mention that having to use an outhouse at 10 degrees is no fun? No, I didn't think so. I keep telling people that I liked winter better when I didn't have to work outside in it.

Last, I have come to realize that not only were you my dad, but you were also one of my best friends.

I have a hard time with the weeks leading up to the anniversary of your death. The anticipation is worse than the actual day, for some reason. It could also be that this year I made a point of planning something fun for that day. I took a friend going through rough times herself to a concert. I wanted to go see this guy, but I never would have gone on my own. It ended up being a very good day. I talked a lot about you, and took your old wool workshirt with me. It's my official "Mosey Shirt", still smells like you.

Anyway, I still miss you.
Love,
Tami