This was my dad. A passionate weirdo whose motto was Go Big or Go Home. He loved his daughters deeply and we loved him to the moon and to Mars and all the way out to Pluto and back.
I still can't fully believe he's gone, and when I think about that I cry hysterically. He was so full of life in the incredibly cliched phrase that sounds meaningless until you know the person it's describing.
I know it's worse for a parent to outlive a child because I know a lot of those parents but this is still so awful. I'm trying to gnu him by just telling everyone my favorite stories about him, looking at old photos, playing his favorite music. He taught me to make scrambled eggs and to be a specific kind of coffee snob and how to put on a bandaid cleanly and how much sunscreen it takes to cover an average sized body (a shotglass full) and how to cook meat with the touch method and he tried to teach me to rollerblade and windsurf and snowboard but they didn't take.