Yesterday I received a call from my grandmother. My father was found in his apartment, on the floor, already gone. I can't believe it's true. My dad was so much more than just my parent. He was one of the most supportive friends in my life, we would go on trips together, and I loved just casually hanging out with him.

He's gone too soon, at fifty nine years of age. They believe it was an aneurysm, instant- no suffering. He's had multiple sclerosis since his mid twenties and his condition was slowly progressing (thankfully medication had slowed the progress). I'd ended up being sort of his caretaker for the last fifteen years, helping him with errands and running groceries and hospital appointments, and whatnot. That didn't stop him from being a fantastic father. And I consider the relationship we had as a strong friendship more than anything.

I know he's in a good place, but I still can't believe it. Thank you so much for all the time we spent together dad. You're awesome, and I can't ask for a better father. Rest in peace.