To dad, I never imagined I’d be losing such a vital part of my life just as I turned 25. You taught me so much: how to love unconditionally, to be selfless (you’d give the shirt off your back for anyone), how to cook, identify plants, to be honest, and countless other things. You were a true mountain man, born a century too late. You cherished the simple pleasures of life like being in nature, chopping wood, fishing, making blackberry wine, using an old-fashioned washing machine just for the hell of it, and discovering hidden swimming holes. My favorite memories are with you: picking blackberries in summer, fishing in the Yuba River, camping at Fort Bragg, our many family dinners, exploring every back road we could, you telling Ruthie and me to shut up when we went hunting, visiting you at the duck club, our road trip to Point Arena, and planting crops in Grandma’s garden every year. You were a man of few words, but we always connected through music. Driving around in your Ford Explorer listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd, Van Halen, Black Sabbath, Steve Miller Band, Led Zeppelin, and Creedence Clearwater Revival. You and mom shaped my love for music. You meant the world to me, and I’m so grateful the universe chose me to be your daughter. This week has been the hardest of my life, and I’m lost without you here. I wish I could talk to you one last time, but I know that’s not how it works. I love you so fucking much. Love, Nanny