It hits me out of nowhere, and for a few minutes I can’t help but think about how nice it would be to be able to call up dad and talk about nothing important. Just chat, and I don’t know, go get a drink together. I don’t know what my dad’s drink of choice was, and as I get older, that seems like a pity.
The nuance of spending half your life without someone is that the older you get, the deeper it stings as it begins to dawn on you just how many things you can’t share.
