It’s true what they say, that distance makes the heart grow fonder. It’s like I am starting to forget all of the bad times and only remember the good ones. It’s like there’s a block in my brain that won’t let me remember the things that are important — and those things are the very reason I’m in this position.

But as the days pass by and I get older, I just wonder what life would be like with him in it. I wonder if he would be proud of me. If he would give me advice. If he would finally give me the relationship that I’ve always wanted with him.

It’s tough to say because I know him at his core and I don’t think he’s capable. I’ve dealt with it. I’ve accepted it. But I can’t sit here and honestly say that I don’t think about it. I think about it every day. We made a pretty good team when things were good. We had a lot of fun together. There were summers in Greece and Sunday dinners. There was even a time that I felt like he was trying. Like he wanted to be a part of my life. For real, though. Not because a piece of paper signed by a judge said that he had to.

I dream about him. I dream that we’re together, laughing. That we’re just enjoying life together. I often wake up from those dreams confused, asking myself what really went wrong. Wondering how someone who is supposed to love me by nature can just go on with his life and pretend that I don’t exist. I pinch myself. I’m awake and I’m here. I do exist.

And oh how I have tried to forget. How I’ve tried to push him completely out of my life. But the mind is a funny place, you know.

It has been six years and I’ve never once admitted this. Until now…

I miss him.

I miss my dad.