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I sang to my dad on his deathbed. I wonder if he heard me. I wonder if he was comforted by our presence or if we said anything he wanted to hear. Was it just awkward? Was it any more comfortable than what his body was going through? Did he give up? Did we make him feel unwanted or unneeded in our lives so he didn’t feel he had enough to live for? I don’t know if even a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about him. I thought that was just a nice thing people said, but it’s true. It actually happens. I love you, Dad. I truly do miss you and I think of you every day. I’m so very selfish and I wish I hadn’t been. You are so much more worthy of life than I, but there’s nothing I can do to bring you back and all I can think to do is try and make you proud of the person I am. This could take time and more effort than I may even be capable of. I guess in time we’ll see. Know that you made an impact on me. Know that you mattered. Know that you still matter. Every day.

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