I miss you, dad.

I miss you so much. I don't cry it about it very often, and I don't think about it very often. At least, not in this way. I don't know.
I wish you were still around so you could watch me go through life the way I am. I think you'd be proud.

I just wish you would be in your chair by the door with your arms tucked under your head. I wish that when I walked through the door you would turn your head and look at me and say, "Hey, motso potso! Hello, darling! How are you?"
And then you'd get up and hug me, and I would throw my shit upstairs. I'd come downstairs and start making myself the usual sandwich at the stove while you offer to make me all these different foods. I'd assure you that all I want is this sandwich and I can do it myself (in a friendly tone, of course). So you'd sit back down and I'd talk to you about life at college while I eat my sandwich and watch tv with you.

I want that so fucking much!
Sometimes I think I'm starting to forget parts of you and what you were like.
I mean, I get the general idea and I remember who you are and most of the things you do, but there are times when I get afraid that I'm just... losing some of it.
And I guess that's normal as times keep changing and moving, but I really, really don't want to forget you.

I just miss you, god damn it.
I hate cancer, I hate that you got it. I hate that it was slow, and I hate that it was you.

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Fuck cancer.