It's been five months already since my dad died (can you even believe it?). Although the shock has faded and life has moved forward, there are still sharp little pangs that come and go, like side cramps during a run. For some reason, I've been feeling the ache today; I really want to call home and hear him respond "mei mei." (What is it about a father's voice that just instantly makes you feel like you're five, safely curled up in his lap?) It also makes me sad to think that I won't get to see the look in his eyes as he cradles his grandchild or hands me off to my groom. So I'm finding solace in something my wise-beyond-her-years friend Tricia told me on her last visit to Brooklyn. She lost her dad some time ago, and when we were chatting about her beautiful wedding this fall, she told me that she could feel his presence. It made me realize: Even if my dad isn't with me in the flesh, at least he's here in my heart.
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