December 22nd I was informed that the coroner was outside the house and I screamed, pleading it wasn't my daddy. But it was. I have been having nightmares, vivid ones, all year, that I was going to lose him. I got that from him too, he just knew these things. I'm in Utah and he lives in Pennsylvania, I was in the middle of a hellacious move when all of this happened and since I'm not on -any- good terms with my mother or sister, I probably won't be able to find out why/how he died and I can't even begin to think about affording to go to a funeral, if there were one. I won't know that either. He was very important to me, he introduced me to so many of the things I love, Smokey and The Bandit, The Beatles, Monkees, music in general. He got me my very first Beatles poster, of all them crossing Abbey Road. He hung it on my wall and surprised me when I came home from school in the 8th grade. I never would have known how awesome M*A*S*H was or the A-Team. My daddy was never abusive