Recently, I read an article about what it was like to lose a parent at a young age. This person lost their parent when they were in their twenties. I've seen all sorts of articles like this, and none of them really pertain to me. None of them speak to me and allow me to say, "Wow, I understand completely." You see, I lost my dad when I was three years old. I don't remember much of anything about him. So I suppose this is more for me than anyone else.

You were gone before I got to know you.

I have one memory of you. I'm not sure if it's a memory, or just another story that produced a picture in my head that my brain has tricked me into believing that I remember. I don't have a memory of the way you sounded or smelled. I don't remember the way you laughed or walked. You were simply gone before I got the chance to know you. That doesn't make it hurt any less.

I still miss you.

Can you miss someone you don't remember? I don't know if you're supposed to, but I definitely know it's possible because I do miss you, all the time.

I get jealous of all my friends.

For years, I watched my friends' dads show up at sporting events and school functions. It was just the way it was for me. I didn't question it or sense the jealousy until I was a little bit older. Endless softball tournaments, eight parents nights, three proms, and a graduation. All my friends had their dads present, and I just didn't.

Most people had no idea until I told them.

People I have known for years just casually asked, "So why don't you get to see your dad?" I wish it was something simple like divorce, work, anything but what I had to tell them.

"You remind me so much of your dad."

This makes me happier than you could ever imagine. I get told I look like him, and sometimes act like him. People tell me that things that I was simply too young to learn from him at the time, somehow got passed along to me. I'm so grateful for statements like that.