Have you ever found yourself happy and depressed at the same time? It’s a bitch, if you haven’t. You are filled with joy and glee towards some aspects of life, and miserably depressed with the other parts; it totally sucks.

I have every reason to be happy, Abbie is wonderful, work is going excellent, I’ve been really active with my friends as of late, those are 3 huge parts of my life.

So why do I have this constant nagging me down? I only wish I could answer that. I feel lonely, yet even at this moment I’m talking to somebody. I’ve been talking with a friend about problems they’re having with their father, and it made me aware of how much I miss mine. I never really got to know him as well as I would have loved to, but from what I do remember, I aspire to be just like that. Intelligent, fit, strong, supportive, creative, loving, caring, he was an awesome dad.

There are the times when I feel angry with him, for giving up – taking the easy way out. I know of his reasons, and understand why they would lead him to it, but I regret an unimaginable amount that he hadn’t chosen that path, it has hurt this family, more than I believe he realized it would. Then there are the times when I just feel incredible remorse for him, all the distress that eventually caused his suicide, the family problems, work issues, and anything else in his life I wasn’t aware of at the mere age of 4.

Usually it’s a mix of the two, like right now. I am angry with him, because I could really use his help and guidance right now; feeling depressed because I don’t have anyone their for me, other than friends who, no matter how supportive, can’t substitute his place.

I’m not a religious person, but I still do talk to my dad in my head, nearly every day; call it crazy, it helps me remember him, and helps me come up with ideas that he may have come up with in order to help me. I devote projects of mine in his remembrance, hell, I even named my blog after him.

People say I’m the exact copy of my father.. except the hair color, and it feels me with joy to know that because my father was and still is today one of my major role models. He may not have been perfect, but it’s not his “imperfections” I care for, it is the wonderful qualities he possesed, and his caring nature.

He was the one person that could truly understand me, and I could truly understand, we were one in the same. It’s hard to accomplish something like that, and even harder to have it ripped away from you.

I don’t have many memories left, but one of the strongest ones is the last one I have of him; lying on the floor, face down, throwing up as I am standing a mere 2 or 3 feet aware, staring at him and wondering what he is doing – I don’t comprehend death, I’m not even 5. I see my mom crouching next to him, crying, the phone grasped tightly in her hand. The sirens of the ambulance, and the flashing lights shining in through the kitchen window from the driveway, the paramedics rush in, and take him away, I’ll never see you again, Dad.