Sometimes, when you’re driving home in the dark, on the way home from your mom’s house where you’ve heard one too many “God’s truth” opinions voiced, the kids are laughing and playing “hats over” in the back seat of the car, it hits you and all you can do is let the tears flow because you remember a moment, a conversation, a pat on the shoulder, and you long to have him back.

This time, it was the election. I wanted to hear his opinion. I wanted to see him reading his Maclean’s magazine and wondering what might be in store for our country this time around. I wanted the voice of a man who liked to listen to other peoples’ opinions, challenge them, disagree with them perhaps, yet always respect them deeply. I wanted to thank him for raising me to have an opinion, a voice, and the confidence to believe in it even if it was different from his own.

I wanted it so badly I could almost taste it.

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