Have your nerves ever been so raw as when you sear your fingertips on a scalding hot stove top, flesh sizzling, the oils of your skin jumping up to meet your face, the lines of your fingertips so singed that they're nothing more than unrecognizable scabs? That's what losing a father is like. Or rather, that's what it's like to realize that he was never there, not for you, not at all.