3 years

Three years ago, I wasn’t surprised.

The battle was long, for you especially, but for us also.

The battle was un-winnable.

So, here it is. Three years since you’ve gone.

The anniversary kind of snuck up on me this year. I was walking down the hall here at work, and like a poison dart to my brain; your face appeared. Then I heard your voice in my head. Then all my thoughts have been black since.

I remember the night I flew back to Virginia. I slept in the office that you had downstairs. You called it an office, but NASCAR paraphernalia filled each square inch of that room. It was your “racing room.” That was an uncomfortable night. Every time I opened my eyes I would see Jeff Gordon, then I would think of you. Every time I closed my eyes, I swear I could hear you talking in the kitchen. You would say, “Hey there!” just like you always did when you saw me.

Here it is. Three years later. I can still hear you. Sometimes I hear myself say something like, “Hey there!” Sometimes I’ll hear myself say that, or something equally insignificant, and I’ll…

Well...

I’ll think of you.

Because that is all I can do.

I miss you Dad.