'I still keep meeting you in my sleep, in different places in the world I know you have been in, through old photo albums, through other people's story's about you, through your handwritten letters and postcards that aren't even addressed to me.

All my life I have been storing and stitching these pieces together, trying to make you whole. Trying to hold your presence for a little bit longer, dreading your image to fade away.

In times when I would have needed you I sooth myself holding handful of fragments with you.

I'm still stitching you, dad.'