Hey, Dad. Ready for this? It’s been five years since you left us. FIVE YEARS. I assume that you’re aware of this through the ether- but I’m not exactly sure about how time works where you are. (That said, I’m not exactly sure about how time works where I am. Long story.) Dad, when you died, I thought I was the bravest I had ever been- had ever had to be. Working on your obituary, pulling together your collection of {Read More}
My goal for 2020? To take care of others- and myself
December 10, 2019 By 2 Comments
Exactly one year ago, I weighed 117 pounds. I was in severe pain; my belly, my ribs, my brain. For a month, nothing was “officially” wrong. Blood tests were fine, organ functions were skipping along, and- if you disregarded the fact that I couldn’t eat a thing- my doctors assured me that I was all good. I would wake up in in the middle of the night, weeping, panic gripping my chest, the knowledge that I was actually dying keeping {Read More}
A story for Bean.
November 29, 2018 By 8 Comments
So, I need to tell you about my little buddy Bean. Even if you’re not a “cat person.” Especially if you’re not a “cat person.” I met Bean in 2004, back when I wasn’t much of a cat person, either. (I didn’t have anything against them- I just happened to be 24 years of age and was doing fairly well being a Keely Person, to tell the truth.) But my boyfriend at the time had grown up with cats, and {Read More}
Two goodbyes, entirely too soon.
July 13, 2017 By 2 Comments
There’s no easy loss, and there’s never a “good” time to say goodbye to a loved one. That said, this week we’re saying goodbye to two souls who were intricate parts of my sisters’ and my childhoods, and who each brought something special to their families, to their loved ones, and to everyone lucky enough to meet them: They each created joy. Steve Dennis was one of my Dad’s bandmates for many years, and a housemate/soul brother, at that. As kids, my sisters {Read More}
Two years.
March 30, 2017 By 2 Comments
Hi, Dad. It’s been two years since you died. It’s weird; typing “died” feels so harsh, so final. Like it’s rude to acknowledge it in that word. But I’m not feeling particularly fanciful, so neither “passed on” nor “departed” or “shuffled off” are words that feel right to me today. Honestly, using “died” doesn’t feel right to me either, on a number of levels. I know I don’t have to over-explain this one; I never had to with you, pretty much {Read More}
To my Dad, one year gone.
March 30, 2016 By 7 Comments
Hi, Dad. So, I miss you. You know this. I know you know this because I’m always telling you this. And you respond in the ways that folks who are desperate for signs are sure to notice; the warmth of a hand on a shoulder, a puffy, heart-shaped cloud on a completely clear day, a third playing of Boz Scagg’s “Lido Shuffle” on major airwaves in 24 hours… This first year without you has been gigantic. And endless. And lightning {Read More}
Rest well, Jef.
February 25, 2016 By 4 Comments
I’m not entirely certain what the saints and angels are up to these days, but they seriously need to lay off with the taking of the best and brightest souls. Jeffrey Smith died yesterday morning, after a multi-decades long battle with cancer (cancers, really), and a lightning-fast stint with hospice care. The hospice seemed so, so short- maybe in comparison with his unfairly long battle, but in actuality probably because there would never be a good time to say goodbye to this {Read More}
Puzzles, grief & yelling at screens.
November 23, 2015 By 3 Comments
My Dad and I used to collectively pull out our hair over puzzle games. We uttered angry, not-so-nice words at the computer screen while staring down images of Myst. We reveled in various games’ unlocked achievements, cascaded tiles, deciphered secret codes, and manipulated picture frames that somehow became castle keys. We had entire text conversations which consisted of “This level./I KNOW.” When my Dad first got sick, I sent him The Room, a stunning and immersive game- the kind that made {Read More}
