But I think the thing that hurts more, is the forgetting. After my dad died everyone told me, just remember the good times. Remember the time you had with him.
My dad died 14 days after my 11th birthday. This year marks 11 years since he died. So this year, 14 days after October 17, I'll have been living longer without him, then I ever got to live with him.
It seems that everyday, there's something else gone. I don't remember the good memories. I think maybe I have one good memory. And the rest aren't so good.
I don't remember his favorite color. I don't remember his laugh, his smell, his voice. I barely remember him trying to help me with homework. There's so much I just keep forgetting.
That's what hurts the most.