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I've been watching someone on TV. He looks like my dad (well, he has similar hair, and a similar smile). He is enjoying the same things that my dad did. He is full of life, and engaged with the world. That's where the similarity ends, since my dad has been dead for a few years now.

My dad started failing in January, and had surgery the day of my birthday (in January) to try to correct it. But it didn't work, and he got sicker and sicker. He moved over to palliative care on March 8th, and died in May, a few years ago. 

I still miss him though. I didn't mean to find look-alikes. They just happened, and now I'm back in it. I wish I could hear him say that he was proud of me.

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As someone who has recently lost my father, I understand. I'm kind in a funk of grief myself tonight. The thing is that grief knows no bounds or time limits, and it can rise up and bite us in the most unexpected times. No need to feel bad for seeing your dad in someone else. I think it's entirely natural. The loss of someone dear leaves a big gaping hole in us.

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Oh Rosie. 

I sort of understand this. My uncle died when I was 3 (he was like my father - I preferred him over my mother). The circumstances around his dead were a bit of a mystery really. So I always had the hope that he was still alive and kept a lookout for him. Not a lookalike but a lookout for him. 555 is the reminder I have for him. It meant something in the beeper/pager days. So I have a bittersweet reminder of him when I see 5:55 on the clock. I'm both happy to say hello yet there's still a longing. 

Almost 22 years later and I still miss him dearly. He was the most important person in my life. Had he stayed alive maybe my mom wouldn't have done some of the things she did.

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Thanks for responding to me last night, and helping me to feel less alone. I wanted to comment then, but I was out of words. I really wasn't expecting to become so upset, and it really blindsided me. 

That sense of longing is so hard.

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My father died in January of 2013, very suddenly, and it was devastating. He was very distinctive-looking, not "one of those faces," so at least I don't have to deal with that, but sometimes out of the corner of my eye I'll catch an older man with a white beard, or a plaid shirt, or something about his bearing, and my head will whip around and my heart will stab with longing. Our relationship was deeply problematic,  it I would give almost anything to see him again, to ask him a few questions, to tell him that I love him. Despite everything. It absolutely guts me sometimes.

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