Every year I become depressed at exactly this date. Almost as if my body remembers the pain I felt tomorrow at 7pm, 8 years ago, when I found out you had passed. Life has been kind to me these last few years. I often feel like you're close to me still. Helping and guiding me in my seemingly never ending descent through life. I miss you so much. I feel tired, forever yearning to hold you once more. I don't think I'll ever feel whole again, but strangely I don't want to. The massive pit that you left in my heart when you died reminds me to approach life with enthusiasm as you have little control on the outcome of so many things. What I'm saying is that life is fragile, and seemingly perplexing, and can be taken with no warning and certainly no reason. I don't play my guitar so much these days. Maybe because every song I ever learned reminds me of you. Perhaps when I played for you, and you cooed, I was making your last days comfortable. I don't think I'll ever play it again. The words I had tattooed on me in your memory are starting to fade now, ever so slightly. But your memory will never leave me. Thank you baby Jessica for making me so happy. A happiness which was only matched by despair when you left me. A happiness that I will cherish forever. Until we meet again. Always and forever. Dad xxxxxxx