My mind is a sweatshop of emotion right now. I keep waiting for the bell to sound so I can go home. But closing time doesn’t seem likely for a good while.

This past Saturday was a banner day in existential pain.

First, it was my late father’s birthday. When I say late, I don’t mean he forgot to set his alarm, though the guy was perpetually late to everything. He was probably late to something in the afterlife. He died back in 2005. I sent my brother a text message asking if it was weird that I still had the urge to wish him a happy birthday. He replied it wasn’t and that he missed him as well. A friend of my father also tweeted me saying they’d found a trove of old emails he sent her. What a gift. I think that’s what I’m most glad for, even now. His voice cascades down into my brain and I can pull it up if I need it.

I remember buying my dad a couple of pairs of socks and some new Rockport shoes. Every year. As a kid, you either got your parents something within reach or something they needed. In reality, giving them your love was probably a bit of both and the truest gift.

He would’ve been 69 years-old. It’s ridiculous to me that he died before he made it to 60 because of cancer. Makes me angry, actually. Still.

But then something else happened on Saturday.

My internet compatriot, and brother in fatherhood, Oren Miller, passed away. Needless to say, I was pretty exasperated. How could something as cowardly as cancer take away people who fight bravely against it? But my anger was soon overtaken by a wave of guilt. Was there something more I could have done? Had I lazily written my support on a Facebook wall without in the time to connect and find out what he needed? What had I missed?

Goodbye, @BloggerFather. Cancer is a cowardly asshole. #Dads4Oren

— Charlie N Andy (@HowToBeADad) March 1, 2015

Oren was an interesting man. A great writer, ardent support of at-home fatherhood and dedicated to telling stories. He was forthright in his intentions and where he stood. He didn’t back down. In fact, there’s a little battle he started that I’d like to help finish for him. More on that tomorrow. Stay tuned.

We shook hands at a conference for dads a few years ago. I found his in-person presence to be somewhat dissimilar to his online personality. Our conversation was short and he was very soft-spoken. He made no effort to bemuse or impress. I admired him that way. Sometimes I find myself performing when listening would do better. Online, he could be dry and witty, almost brash. I liked it. I tend to enjoy that streak in people when it’s used for the right reasons.

His funeral takes place today. Lots of dads are going for a stroll with their kids in his honor. I’ll probably take some extra time to reflect on his life. In the meantime, let’s watch this clip at the top of this post of Oren talking about his favorite part of being a dad. Also there’s a link to a fundraiser to help with burial costs and taking care of his family.

If you feel like contributing to that, commenting here about Oren or your own experiences with cancer — honestly, you could write anything here, and it would make me happy. I feel like I need to plug in to some human connection.

Thanks, guys. And thank you, Oren.