I’ve come home to find Apocalypse now on TV a few times in the last week. It’s one of my favorite films. It was also one of dad’s favorites. He liked Platoon a lot as well. For a guy who liked such violent and disturbing films, he was peaceful. I was just thinking about how it didn’t make much sense to me. When I see films we’ve watched together, I have memories. They may be faint, but they’re there. I didn’t do that much when he was alive. I notice things I do that are like him as well. They way I chew reminds me of him. I think as humans we make connections where there are none, so sometimes when I’m thinking about a connection we had, I dismiss it. I’m reaching for connections because I want him to be alive. And I’m not saying we didn’t have a connection. We did. One that runs very deep. Part of the process of letting go means that I’m just going to be sad. I’m going to wish he was alive again and he’s never going to be. I’ll never see him again. Mom won’t change the outgoing message on the voicemail. It’s dad’s voice. And it’s really weird to hear him speak like that, because I don’t leave messages for him anymore.