I have roughly 68 hours left.

68 hours from now, I will no longer be able to say "My father was alive a year ago."

My jaw aches from clenching back the grief of it. He was such a radiant person. He was my sunshine. I always knew that if I got in trouble, he'd Charles Bronson the utter hell out of the situation, and that he'd save me. If he didn't get there in time, I knew he'd lay waste to whatever person or force undid me. Know this: the previous statement was not an exaggeration in the slightest: He was a righteous man, and there is nothing in the world more fierce than a righteous man.

I had no idea that there existed the feeling of being in the front-row-of-the-funeral club. I naively thought I had some time before such an experience. I thought, honestly, that I would die before either of my parents died, and I luxuriated in the silly idea that I would be spared such grief in this lifetime.

What blissful ignorance that was!

Yes, I was lucky. Yes, I was charmed to live more than 53 years never knowing what it was to lose a parent.

Of all the stupid, messed-up garbage I've seen in my life, losing Dad is the first thing to stop me in my tracks. Losing Dad is the first thing to make me feel that the glass is more empty than full. Dad's death is the first thing to make me truly okay with the thought of my own demise. Bach said "Don't cry for me, for I go where music is born." Even though I thought many times over that I would have died before now, whenever I die, I'm okay with that. I will be where Dad is, and that can't be a bad thing.

It would be honest for me to tell you that I could tear every hair from my head on a daily basis with the sheer grief of it all. The very existence of the circumstance of this post is like chewing on glass for me.

It would be honest for me to say that his loss makes me question things in life as I have never done.

It would be entirely true to say that the loss of Dad has vanished the most luminous, beautiful spark that makes life beautiful and meaningful.

But it would be a lie to say that his fight died with him. Something in the world still needs its ass kicked, and seeing as I remain as one of his emissaries, well, I'm going to kick whatever ass is in my power to kick.

I can say with utmost sincerity that Dad is still in my corner, and that his will is utterly committed to my well-being.

I have the shoes for the ass-kicking outfit.

I intend to wear them.