Politically cheated. Sometimes I feel cheated. Specifically, I feel politically cheated. But hear me out as to why. I never planned on being eyeballs-deep into American policies and relations and amendments and candidates with- jeebus– horrific skeletons in their Terrible Person closets. Don’t get me wrong- civics class was fun. I wrote a pen pal letter to Chelsea Clinton in 1992. Heck, touring the FBI’s headquarters in D.C. was a highlight of my nerdy, nerdy, in-love-with-Mulder youth. But otherwise? I {Read More}
Three years later.
March 30, 2018 By 3 Comments
Hey Dad, It’s been three years since we last held hands, last watched James Bond and HGTV, and last joked about how much we could sell your pills for on the black market. (#regrets) Three years ago, I spent the better part of three months driving back and forth from small airport to small town (in big, big snow), wondering what “after” would look like. How could we possibly have an “after” when our hero was leaving us? I would {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}
Sitting vigil on the internet.
June 16, 2016 By 3 Comments
I had a whole post ready to go for today. About senseless violence and targeted minorities and lax gun measures and horrific election reactions and about one sweet baby boy and his immeasurably grieving parents. And I couldn’t finish it. More often than not it feels like I’m sitting vigil with my ever-refreshing news feeds; click, scroll, cry, panic, rinse, repeat. Plus, let’s be honest. Absolutely no one in the world needs my feelings (in 800 word diatribe form) about senseless {Read More}
Grief. And Other Things I Can’t Control.
February 5, 2015 By 24 Comments
I am by no means a grief expert. I am by no means an anything expert. Except for mid-50s to mid-90s rock trivia. In that scenario, I’ve practically got a PhD. Which is not as frequently helpful as you might suspect. And even in terms of emotions, I’m okay at that. (P.J. would probably say that I’m exceptional at that. “Emotions.” As in “having them loudly.” “A lot.”) But working through them in functional ways that make linear sense? Yeah, {Read More}
