Sunday, February 25th was the worst day of my life (up until now of course, as I know life has unbelievable ups and horrible horrible downs). My father, my hero, my friend passed away. I didn't see it coming although signs were there he was sick, very sick. He kept stuff from me as not to worry me. The pain I am feeling is one that is much too extreme to explain. It's a lonely desperate heartbreaking panic that leaves you feeling broken and empty, sad and confused. It's been a fucking nightmare that I've so so wanted to wake from. Reality is harsh. The tears seem never to end, never to lessen. Knowing I'll never share a laugh, a Cubs game, a moment of enlightenment with the man I've loved more than any other (except for my son) is at times too much to take. My memories are vast and brillant. Nothing left unsaid or unexpressed here. We understood, accepted, and loved each other very very much. He was beyond a father and mentor to me. He was my friend. He took Cubs losses just as hard, he enjoyed family road trips just as much, he lived life just as focused on that which will sustain you. I thank all those who have been so tender and wonderful to both me and my family these past few days. It really is comforting. I have faith God will help us all, that this too shall pass. I know it'll never be the same but that life will continue. We will all have great times in the future, they just might be lacking something (my dad). Don't worry about me. I have many close and supportive people around me. I just need time to mend these wounds. May God bless my father as He blessed me by giving me such a loving and wonderful father. I love you Papa. Thanks for still talking to me in my daily thoughts. You will always be with me. Take care. Later,
Butch