It’s been a year and seven months since I said goodbye. The memory of that rainy night still etched in my mind like a sad movie. Like 7 Pounds with Will Smith, one of my father’s favorite actors. I was warned the second year would be harder than the first. I was in Charlotte when I got the phone call and boy was that the hardest day of my life thus far. I was planning to go home that Thursday. My flight had been booked for over a week. It just wasn’t enough time. He passed that Sunday morning instead. As I flew on the plane, alone, staring at the clouds hovering next to me in the sky, all I could do was reminisce on the good times we shared. I was the youngest and you know how that goes, especially with girls. Daddy’s little girl; that’s who I was and even though he’s gone, that’s who I will always be. Sometimes I think it’s not fair, how he didn’t even get to see me turn 30. He was only 65 and although he did live a full life, I still think there was more for him to do and become.