12,215

Days alive: 12,215

Days since diagnosis: 73

Days since my dad died: 3

I’m not sure I’ve fully processed it yet.

I know he’s dead, logically. I know it.

I’m flying to Texas on Tuesday for the service, the paperwork, and to spend time with Tink and Doug.

Part of me is so angry. And another part has me hiding in the bathroom at work, dry heaving from crying when I think about it too much.

I’m still processing.

There will be no more hitting on servers in November wearing a Santa hat.

There won’t be family outing to Star Trek movies in cosplay. Nor any more gleefully snapping photos with strangers with the same idea.

But I know I’m sad. At least I know that.

I know life’s not fair, I know better than some. It’s not fair. I’m angry, and frustrated, and so fucking sad.

But I’m going to keep going. I’m going to hold to memories and try to make something of myself.

Not for him, but for me and to prove him right.

Oh, and happy 6th night of Hanukkah.

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