Category Archives: Life stories

Kitten therapy

I take a deep breath as I open the door.

“Will they think I’m a creep?” I worry. Jeez, I hope not.

Because I’m going in anyway.

“Careful,” I think. “Don’t push the door too hard or too wide.”

I can see that today there are a few little ones running free, drinking from a fountain and playing with toys.

Here I am again at PS9 Pets, a store in my neighborhood that also finds homes for cats and kittens.

cat tux

I’m not stopping in to get a pet. Or to buy supplies for a pet I don’t have.

I’m just here to look at sleeping kittens and playing kittens. I’ll take pics of the lil cuties and show them to my friends who might take one home.

cat black

And if someone suggests it, YES I WILL CUDDLE A KITTEN. Because this is my therapy: kitten therapy.

https://instagram.com/p/5kbuH-jkfx/?taken-by=ps9pets

I’ve been really sad of late, and for obvious, real reasons. I miss my dad.

Right now, the sweetness of a kitten trumps my allergies. And it’s preferable to crying.

If anyone from PS9 reads this, thank you for tolerating me.

My IQ has dropped by 20 points. Maybe 30.

If one of you made me a shirt that said “MY DAD DIED AND I AM A MESS” please know that I would wear it. Perhaps daily.

Such a shirt would save me from having to say those horrible-but-true words aloud, and let people know why my brain is really not working like it normally does.

Via Polyvore and Marc by Marc Jacobs

Perhaps this shirt would work just as well.

I’m serious though. During my sweet Dad’s last days and now, I have been making crazy errors, like booking a flight for the wrong day (by two whole weeks!). And I need to read things, like, four times to get the point.

Is this normal? Will I ever bounce back?


I promise that someday my blog won’t be exclusively about grief and death and sad things. But right now these are pretty much the only thoughts in my head and I really need to share them with anyone willing to listen. Thank you for your patience.

My first post about Life After Dad

My worst fears came true: my sweet, kind gentleman of a Dad died on Friday, July 17.

I have so many thoughts and feelings on this sad time, but need a little time to pull myself together and get my life back in order. Dad spent most of the last five weeks of his life in a Philadelphia hospital so much of my non-family life has been on hold. And I wouldn’t change a thing (except, of course, if I could strike a deal to have Dad back and healthy).

Dad dimples

For the time being, here’s a pic of my father that I love, as well as the text of the eulogy I gave for him at his funeral today. Continue reading

Lows and highs

“I’m so sorry to disturb you,” I said to the woman next to me.

“It’s ok. I wasn’t sleeping, I was just dreaming,” she replied as I stood to slip past her on the Philadelphia-bound train to visit Dad in the hospital.

I smiled. Across the aisle*, her elderly husband was full-on asleep, arms crossed and head bowed. He was older than his wife who had taken the lead in finding seats and then in ensuring his comfort.

Looking at them as a couple, I thought of my mother, fit and strong and ten years younger than my father. Growing up, I never thought of their age difference as a big deal. Now, Dad’s age and health conditions are yielding a lot of heartache.

I’m trying not to equate love with pain and loss. But right now, it’s so very hard. Someday everyone I love will be gone. I too will leave this earth someday. And because I don’t have the crutch of believing in heaven, these feelings are a heavy burden.

Dad’s condition is stable now, but eight days into this hospital stay, we have no sense of when he might be ready to go home. No independence for Dad this July 4th.


Rehoboth

I usually spend Independence Day with a family group in Rehoboth Beach. This year, there was an issue with the house we stay at so even if Dad were healthy, we were not going to be able to spend the holiday there together as is our tradition. Continue reading

Sometimes a girl needs a cheap massage

Recently I have been under an unusually high level of stress. Obviously.

The morning after Arte Agave, I woke up not hungover, but sore.

#ArteAgave #tequila #mezcal #bowerycollective #skeleton #nyc

A photo posted by @nycgetsocial on

My guess is that after fifteen margaritas (I exaggerate) and tequila punches, I slept in an unmoving heap for eight plus hours. Ouch. My neck, my back, etc. Continue reading

We almost lost him. Someday we will.

For the first time, I understood.

Instead of thinking “Daddy, please don’t die. Don’t leave me,” I just wanted him not to suffer. The selfishness of a daughter evaporated.

The doctors had Dad sitting perfectly upright, a mask covering his entire face and forcing air into his lungs. He was sedated, given morphine for pain. When I spoke to him and stroked his hand, Dad  opened his eyes and tried to reassure me.

“Rest, Dad. You need to rest. Don’t worry about me.”

And then I went out into the hospital corridor, nearly biting through my bottom lip as I tried to stifle my sobs.

With Dad during carefree times

With Dad during carefree times

Continue reading