Eight years

I was going through some boxes in the basement and stumbled across a letter my dad wrote me back in 1995. It was random...and rare. He didn't write me many letters but when he did, they were always a glimpse into his mind. Having moved out at 18, I didn't get a chance to talk to him as often as I would have liked so the letters he did write to me were a sweet treasure.

It's been 8 years that he's been gone. Eight years. How does eight years feel like eight days sometimes?

Heading to Team Rubicon NatCon soon and I'm grateful. Being surrounded by wonderful people who do incredible things, planning to do even more incredible things in 2017 will be good for my soul. And rather than stuff this all down and gut it out alone (as is my want), I've stepped out of my comfort zone and given a couple of good friends a heads up so that if they see me wallowing too much, they can kick my butt and get me out of my head. Hopefully I will be having too good of a time for it to be an issue, but it's good to know they are there if I need them.

I dread this week each year but this year, I'm going to do my best to revel in the changes that are being wrought in my life because they are the right changes. They are good changes. And I feel like I am on the right path. Finally.

My father would be pleased and that is what I will focus on. I do so miss him but I am oh so grateful for the time I had with him.

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