Four years ago I lost my father in a drunk driving accident. It killed him and my aunt Paige. My dad and she were both over the legal limit of alcohol consumption and my dad was the driver. I know and believe that it is his fault for driving after drinking, and I do not deny that. I love him until the end and I miss him much.
I always get upset with myself because I can't ask him simple questions, and not so simple questions. I don't know his favorite color. I don't know his favorite book. I want to know his favorite memory. I want to know if he is proud of me, well, I at least want to hear his voice say it.
After struggle with this lasting