Missing you, Fred

This started out as an email response to a friend. I decided it got too deep and sounded too depressing to send, but it's so much of how I've been feeling, I decided I should share it somewhere (why not share the depression?)

Fred's death threw us all for a loop; even though he was sick, it was so crazy to happen when it did. I see God's hand in the timing in so many ways, but I'm really pretty mad at God about it, too. We kinda thought for a while that we might end up living out there with them, and I feel cheated that I didn't get more time with him. I'm learning to accept it, but it's just...weird. And I feel like there aren't a whole lot of people I can talk about him to. I don't want to depress my mom more, Chip's already majorly depressed by the rest of our sad life, and talking to my dad about missing my stepdad is just too weird. It's depressing that I don't have more options of who to talk to, but I pretty much alienated everyone who cared about us years ago on accident. But there aren't many people who knew him well, and even though I didn't get to spend a lot of time with him the past few years, I feel the time we did spend together was quality time - even if it was just watching TV in the same room together. He was a great conversationalist. I say that about his son all the time: "David can talk to anyone" "David knows all the right questions to ask and he appears genuinely interested in the answers".... and it wasn't until after Fred died that I realized he was the same way - if you were talking about something he had an interest in, too.
He could tell great stories. He would laugh at his own stories and his own jokes, and get that cute half-smile.
Some of his quirks were things I probably shouldn't put in print, but he was lovable, and funny, and dare I say, a smartass? I'm fairly certain that's one of the main reasons he and Chip got along so well. :)
Fred was a good teacher, and even though he seldom came right out and said it, I think he enjoyed teaching me some things about photography and Photoshop. I think he enjoyed when I played his daughter in "The Music Man" at Civic (Zaneeta to his Mayor Shinn). Once he was watching a tv show and Patty Loveless was singing. He said something to the effect of, "You can sing that song better" and I don't think I'd ever been more complimented. He's quite the critic, as most who knew him would tell you, so it felt good for him to say it, knowing he didn't have any obligation to do so (not that I don't appreciate familial compliments). I liked being his photog sidekick and helping him at photo shoots that one year. He probably never knew that I needed that gig for my life to get back on track as much as he needed extra arms and someone to move around the reflector.
I don't remember him crying often, or really ever, but I remember him tearing up when we hugged goodbye the day they left for NY. I hugged him hard, and after a few seconds he backed off, blinking hard, and said "it's not forever!".
And now it is.
And it sucks.
I'll get used to it, because I have to, but not tonight.