dad’s closet. it’s weird walking into a house that he lived in. i am kind of grateful i did not grow up in this house so i don’t have a million memories piercing my heart and mind. but i was not looking forward to this day. walking in to his house and seeing photos of him. seeing a rack of his hats. seeing his closet (with the sweater he was wearing when i said goodbye last). seeing his side of the bed. seeing his handwriting on papers in the office. seeing him. he is everywhere. truly, it is haunting.