Hello. It's been a long time.
I've been in town for a convention. Long, drawn-out round-table discussions, decent Scotch, bizarre hotel food, and a lot of people whom I don't see often and don't necessarily remember, telling battle stories from the war on crime. I didn't especially want to come, but Adam pressed me to take the trip, and I thought I might as well pay my respects.
I haven't taken a day off since it happened last spring. I've been focused on work; there hasn't really been time for anything else. I've been putting in extra hours, fighting harder, not giving an inch, like you used to say. I'm still damned good at my job. You'd be proud of me. Maybe.
I can't stop thinking that everything is my fault. There are a thousand things I could have done differently. If I'd never called her, or if I'd waited there a little longer. If I'd never known her. If just once, I'd stood up to you. If I'd never been born....
I don't know what I'm talking about any more.
I wish I could pretend you would have liked her. It would be a lie. She would have hated you. She would have seen through all your bullshit and told you exactly what she thought of you, and she would have been exactly right.
For years, I thought I was a failure because I couldn't be as strong and brave and powerful as you were. Now I'm too close for my own comfort. You were a son of a bitch all my life, and if I'm one too, it's because I always wanted to be just like you. I loved you so much. I hated you so much. I don't know how I'm supposed to forgive...
I have a plane to catch, and I don't think I'll be visiting again. I've had enough of cemeteries to last me a long, long time, and I feel like an idiot standing here talking to a stone in the rain. I don't really believe you can hear me. I saw you stop breathing and I know you're gone. I'm all that's left here, and I can't let you keep me from going on and living my life.
I miss her like hell. Whether I like it or not, I guess I still miss you too.
Goodbye, Dad. I'm going home. I've got work to do.