My Dad died three months ago, to the day.
I'd known for a while that he wouldn't be with us much longer. He was getting tired much faster. I started hearing him say,"Will I still be alive then?" when he talked about the future. The child in me always believed he would be alive. But he had so many "conditions" that his doctors were always amazed that he had lasted so long. He was a fighter. If he thought he could go do "it", he would go and do it. His spirit was immeasurable. His body just couldn't keep up.
I visit his grave once a week,... more if time permits it. Each time before I leave I make him three promises. I promise him that I will look out for my family, mainly my mom and my brother. I promise to make him proud of me. I promise to live my life with the same spirit that he lived his.
I miss him,... every single moment of every single day.