After my father died, it has been a year of first for me. The first day, the first week, the first month, the first Thanksgiving, the first Christmas, the first New Year, and now the first Father’s Day without my father. While there is an old saying that time heals all wounds, the saying does not mention that time is a relative fucking thing. While it has been ten months since my father died, it feels like an eternity since that day, but paradoxically, it feels like it happened just a moment ago. I want to cry; I want to scream; I want to make the unspoken supplications of my broken heart known. There is so much that I would love to say to my father; There is so much that I would love to do with my father; There is so much that I would love to ask my father, especially now that I am a father. Yet, I cannot do so. I am left with silence that fills the space of minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years. It feels that I am at a perpetual crossroads: I can let the absence & the heartache of the death of my father gnaw away at my soul slowly or I can choose to bear the heartache by remembering that my father loved me, and that he was proud of me. I choose the latter. I choose to honor his memory with the love that he had for my family. I choose to learn from the lessons that he taught me and to be a better man, and to be better father. I choose to make him proud of me. I choose to do this to honor my father, on this Father’s Day, which is my first Father’s Day without my father. I love you, Dad. I miss you. I wish you a Happy Father’s Day in Heaven. I look forward to seeing you again.