Two years ago today my dad passed. He loved Disaronno. It's too sweet for my liking but I drink a toast to him every occasion. Here's to you, dad.

His name was Rick. If you have something, say a toast to him. He was a good man.

I once asked mom what dad's favorite color was. Then his favorite book. Then his favorite song. Then his favorite food. She knew his food but said that nobody really knows him. Even she didn't. You either loved him or you didn't. He loved by providing. If you weren't under his protection you didn't matter to him. Everyone had enough but he made you rise to the occasion. He helped if he saw you trying and struggling, he'd show up with enough to get you thru. He wouldn't help if you asked tho. He wanted to see you try first. He'd let you fall, but he'd also help you up and dust you off.

I was at work when I got the call. My uncle called me at 720am. I was at work. "Your dad died, kid". I never heard him cry before. I was 1400kms away in the middle of the pandemic. Mom told me not to come home because there's nothing I could do to help and all the quarantine bullshit would take a month away from work which I couldn't afford. There was no service, which he wouldn't have wanted anyway. He went in his sleep a few hours after his workout. His heart just stopped. This was before jabs so I can't even blame it on that. On his death certificate it says diabetic resistance coupled with that slow moving blood cancer I can never remember the name of.

He's cremated. He rests in this log cabin urn mom had made. He always wanted a log cabin in life so he's probably happy as shit right now. Mom just sent me the second pic. She set him up with a drink tonight. The third pic is my dad with the tree he planted on his dad's grave. That's his Jeep Rubicon in the background. I used to joke that's his midlife crisis-mobile. He called her Ruby. She's now in my garage.

I miss you, Dad.