Dear Dad:
This Saturday would have been your 65th birthday. I didn't talk to you on your birthday last year. Jake called and left you a message, and, when you hadn't called us back in a couple days, I finally picked up the phone.
That's when you told me you were sick.
Two Fridays later, I went to your house, and, that Sunday, I watched you breathe your last breath. Yeah Dad, it's been almost a year.
I'm not going to write about this again on April 11. Instead, I'm going to celebrate your birthday today by telling you about what I've been doing with some of the things you gave me.
I mean, you didn't exactly give them to me. Most of the stuff was in your truck, Boss Blue, when I drove away from your house in it about three weeks after the memorial service.
If you were here, I'd ask you if the truck is named after this little guy or if he was named after the truck. He still rides around with me wherever I go.
So does this can of snack mix. You left some crackers in the truck too, and I ate those, but I haven't eaten any of the barnacles. Just can't bring myself to throw them away.
I haven't worn these socks either, but they're a good thing to have in the truck. You never know when you might need an extra pair of wool socks on a cold wet day.
This rain suit I have worn several times. The first was when I had to go in a crawl space the day after I got back with Boss Blue. The rainsuit is perfect for crawl spaces, which are often wet and are always dirty. I didn't go in very many more after that though, and I hope I never have to go in one again.
I've also found the rain suit to be the perfect apparel for hoisting a deer into the bed of Boss Blue. The blood washes right off.
These homemade ramps have come in handy for dragging the bigger deer into back of the truck. You didn't carry them around with you, but I found them when we cleaned out your workshop; extremely handy thing to have.
So are these ratchet straps. You had a bunch of them in the truck, and I've used them all at one time or another.
This little organizer on the passenger side visor I haven't used. I can't. It's too full of your stuff. 
Here are some other things you carried, and that I still keep in the truck, just in case I ever need them.
I've even got some of your change left. I only use that in emergencies...
"I'm sorry."
That was the first thing you said to me when I got there on that Friday in April of 2010. That confirmed my longtime suspicion that you also carried with you a certain amount of pain and regret.
I've been carrying those around for the last year too. They're heavy, and I can't carry them anymore. And I know you don't need them where you are, so let's just leave them behind.
I'll see you again when my time comes Dad. Until then, I've got to travel a little lighter.
Love,
Matt
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