Everything reminds me of him

When I was very young, maybe four, my dad said to me once, "You know, I won't always be here." I remember crying and crying, and all of my life I've been afraid of what would become of me at that moment - when he wasn't "here" anymore.
He was my rock - always supportive, always interested in what was happening in my and my sisters' lives.
He was healthy, fit, and quick-witted until the end. He died suddenly a week ago of an aneurism. He was 90.
I am 58 and I feel like I shouldn't complain. He didn't suffer for weeks or months. He went happily about his favorite pastimes until a few hours before he died. He'd have said he was lucky. I guess he was but I hate it and I miss him so much. I loved him more than anything else in my world.

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