Two years.

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.

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.

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}