These days since my father’s death I’ve been moving through life at my usual pace. Seeing me from the outside doesn’t look much different than before, but my insides feel crumpled. It’s as if my insides were a sheet of paper crumpled up into a small ball that has been laid flat on the table with someone trying to iron out the wrinkles by hand. I have been effected immeasurably and indefinitely. My insides, like the paper, will never be completely smooth again.

I keep telling myself that he knew how I felt and that over the years my love for him was obvious and unquestionable. And yet, I still want a chance to say more. Do more. Be more.

So my plead is to you, my friends, to say it now to the people you have in front of you. Tell the people you love how much they mean to you, because tomorrow truly isn’t promised.