For a second I forgot you were gone today, Dad. I was mindlessly folding laundry and heard a commercial on Pandora that mentioned remembering to call your parents. For that one split second I had the fleeting thought, “Oh! I should call Dad.”

And then it hit me. It hit me as hard as it did the day you were diagnosed with a stage IV brain tumor. As hard as it did the day we lost you. That phone call is never going to happen again.

I should have called more when I had the chance. I should have been more present in your life despite the hundreds of miles between us. A few more phone calls. More texts, when that was something you were still able to do. I got so busy with life and the kids and didn’t cherish what little time we had left with you.

I just didn’t want to face that you wouldn’t be here to watch Gracie and Parker grow up. That you wouldn’t be around to visit and cheer them on at their baseball games and dance recitals. It just hurt my heart too much.

You’d laugh pretty hard at how I snapped out of these thoughts, though. I heard Gracie say, “Ewwwww, Parker!” and ran into his room to discover him with a used Q-Tip in his mouth. Somehow in the minute he was out of my sight he managed to get into his garbage. I can almost hear your laugh in my head right now.

I miss you, Dad. I’ll never NOT miss you. But hopefully someday my heart will hurt a little bit less.