I made a boiled egg today

I just wanted to write cause this was one of the most powerful feelings I've had since Dad died. I made a boiled egg. I always had trouble making boiled eggs and I'm not sure why. I think it's because whenever I wanted one, I either called Dad or he made it for me if I was there. Then I started to think about the last time he made one for me. He was having a hard time too. The whole time he was doing it he was putting himself down and saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry", to me. When the egg was done, I opened it and it wasn't even cooked. Well, it was slightly cooked. I think Dad went into his room for the rest of the day because he was so upset with himself for disappointing me. The thing is, I wasn't disappointed, I was just confused. Dad always made perfect boiled eggs. I think this was in the spring of 2006. I am sad about how stupid I was not to know that something was wrong. I was in denial and I'm really sad about it now. I wish I could bring him back and tell him that it's ok, in fact it's partly our fault for not figuring it out. I got mad at him sometimes because I thought he was giving up, but in fact he just couldn't do some things anymore. How is it fair that at the end of his life he couldn't understand me saying that I'm sorry for all the mean things I've said, and that we love him so much. At times like this I wish there was heaven, because I want him to see how much I loved him, admired him, wished for him to be happier and healthier. Every day in my classes I think about him, and how he could give me perspective on all this stuff I'm learning. I don't think there's a heaven, but I am hoping there is some way that Dad can understand what I'm thinking, and how much I miss him and how much I need him.