My dad – my funny, genius, brilliant dad – died four months ago. He didn't 'pass on'. He isn't looking down on me from heaven or up at me from somewhere hotter. He isn't peacefully asleep, he won't return.His soul isn't wafting around (though I wish it was), gasping for a coffee with five sugars and asking who left that blasted light on when it's not even dark.I had the (nearly unbearable) privilege of being with my dad when he died. Watching numbers on a hospital monitor, not really...
