So, if I ever doubted I had a natural ambition to write, I guess that doubt's gone, because it's the only thing I want to do right now...

My dad died this morning, sometime between 2 and 730 AM. We don't know yet the cause -- it could have been a blood clot or a fall. He passed away in my grandparent's house in East Texas. He wanted to visit with his father alone for a couple of days. My aunt and uncle were on their way to pick him up and bring him back home when we got the news.

We were preparing ourselves for 12 to 18 months, tops, that my dad would have left. But five? No one was prepared for that. He called my mom last night and said he missed us and wanted to come home early. He didn't make it home.

Right now I'm sad and a little angry, but mostly just sad. I don't have regrets though. I'm disappointed. I was looking forward to a summer at home, where I could see my dad on a daily basis. I was looking forward to more morning coffees and political debates with him. I was trying very hard to come to the terms with the fact that he'd never walk me down the aisle on my wedding day, but I thought he'd get to see me walk across the stage to get my college diploma in May. That won't happen. So while I have no regrets, yeah, I'm fucking disappointed.

I've never felt more connected to my dad than the last five months of his life and for that, I'm so grateful. But I'm going to miss him a lot.

I want people to know about my dad, James Kyle. The only time he ever made a lot of noise was when he was vacuuming or mowing the lawn. He was a quiet, reserved man, and probably the most unselfish person I've ever known. He never missed a family dinner and never once forgot to tell me to check the oil in my car, because he knew I'd never remember to check it myself. I'll have to start remembering now.


He was a wonderful father and husband and he'd be the last person on the Earth to ever say so. But I don't mind saying so.

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