Eight years ago today, my dad died. I still think about him every day. But when I feel sad about all of the things he has missed in the last 8 years (meeting and getting to know Steve, my moving back to PA, seeing his grandchildren grow up - he would have delighted in seeing 6 ft+ tall Davy today - , going to Jacquie's wedding, and so much more), I take comfort in knowing that he has, indeed, not missed any of these events. He is, somehow, still able to see us and take part in our lives. I feel him with me all the time...
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