I lost my dad to cancer in October of 2016. It was prostate cancer, of all types to die from. Most types of prostate cancer have a 95+% survival rate, but he ended up with the kind that has a 29% survival rate. The American Cancer Society holds an annual event called the Relay for Life, which my family has gone to every year since well before my dad's diagnosis. This year's is this weekend (for my area). It's the second one since his death, and the first time I'm going without my best friend since my dad's diagnosis. I wasn't planning on going, but my sister decided to go with my mom, and I'd rather go than be home alone. Yay, paranoia. Father's day is also coming up very quickly. It hurts so much. It's not fair that I don't get to have a dad anymore. He wasn't the perfect dad, but no one's perfect, and he was a lot better than most dads I know of. I wish I hadn't seen his last moments. I don't know if I'll ever get the sound of his last breaths out of my head. I don't know if he was still conscious or even technically alive, but his body was trying so hard to keep going. It sounded like the human equivalent of a car failing to start repeatedly. I should be sleeping, but at least I figured out what's keeping me awake.