I was hoping to come up with a intelligent, poignant, beautifully written tribute to my father on the 30th anniversary of his death, but all I can seem to do instead is break down into gut-wrenching sobs. You would think that after 30 years, it wouldn't hurt so bad to think about him, to remember him, but somedays it hurts worse than it did that first year or two after he died. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever fully recover from that loss. Most days I realize I probably never will.
I love you, daddy. And, I will miss you forever.