And I can’t stop thinking of my dad. If he has food to eat, a place to live…if he’s okay.
I haven’t heard from him for months and while I try not to talk about it or show that it bothers me, it scares me like you wouldn’t believe.
It’s amazing how much I care for a man whose face I can’t even picture in my head. No matter what I say about him, he still makes up half of who I am. And I love him for that alone.
And on today of all days, the thought that he might not be okay hits home harder than you can imagine.
No one can even find him…I’m used to him falling off the face of the earth every once in a while, but he’s been very good about keeping in contact with me for the last six years.
I need to know that he’s okay…