|Pat Gallaher -- 1949-2015|
He's been gone five years and I still miss him every single day. Sometimes I go sit at his father's plaque in the graveyard where I know my family scattered some of his ashes, and I have lunch with him, without him. It's pretty lonely, but it's better than having my lunch somewhere else. Sometimes I still briefly think I'll call him when something interesting happens, or when I just feel like I haven't heard from him in a while. I imagine we'll have one of our epic chats.
My Daddy was an epic chatter and so was his mother and so am I. They called it the gift of the gab, but really we're story-tellers. And all bull-headed which made it interesting - in the best way possible. He was one of the few people in the world I wasn't afraid to speak my mind to. He had a lot of stories and he was happy to hear my stories too. He genuinely wanted to know me. I miss having someone to talk to about just everything. I miss you, Daddy. Happy birthday.