I miss the way he loved too hard and cried too often. I miss the way he could laugh at the world one minute and talk about it for hours the next.
When the world broke my heart, he could put it back together. He was in love with love, calling it beautiful and marvelous yet knowing he loved what could never be.
He never needed to feel infinite, he was infinite. He lived so that no second was wasted.
Everyone lucky enough to get to know him will remember him as that rare person who loved others more than himself.
I consider myself the luckiest person in the world because he loved me so much he reevaluated the meaning of father.
He spoiled me with love and overwhelmed me with kindness. He was in love with this crazy messed up world and he wanted me to be too. He was one of a kind. He was my Dad.

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