I think this is it, Dad.
My therapist told me a while ago that I didn't have to continue writing to you anymore, especially since I had finally came to terms with you dying.
But I found something comforting in the idea of you being able to actually read this. Even if you couldn't reply in any way, it was still nice to know that you could still be at my side.
I know that's probably not true, but... You get my point.
Just because I stop writing this doesn't mean I'll forget you though.
Because that's something that won't ever happen.
I'll always love you, and I'll always hope I'm making you proud.
I'm going to be getting my permit this summer, for my birthday, and I promise I won't make the same mistake you did.
But I forgive you now.
I love you, Dad.
Your son,
Junior.
