Happy birthday, dad.

He would have been 72 today. 

When my birthday rolls around, I’ll be 3 years older than he was when he died. It’s weird. For so many years I feared 40 because I believed it could be my end, too. It wasn’t. I’m still here and getting better every year, month, and day. 

So raise you glass (or mug, bottle, etc) to Henry. May he rest well. 

Until next time, peace. 

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