Tag Archives: Dad

I miss him

Tomorrow is Monday. For most people, it will be just another work week starting. But for me, it is the worst anniversary: two years since we lost Dad.

July 17 used to be just another summer day, but now it looms like an exam I didn’t study for or a long, painful dental appointment.

As this summer approached, I didn’t think about lounging by the pool or trips to the beach. Instead I thought “was Dad in the hospital by now two years ago?” Anxiety festered inside me as I tried to decide how I should observe the day. I worried “what if I missed the anniversary completely? What if I forgot?”

Maybe someday I won’t dread July 17, but I doubt I will ever forget what happened on that terrible day. Continue reading

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Do you want to see Hamilton?

I have a pair of tickets to the most popular show on Broadway and I’d like to give* them to you.

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Details here.

You’re probably wondering why I’d give up my tickets. In the interest of full disclosure, I have a pair of nosebleed seats for a November show so don’t feel too bad for me.

But more importantly, I knew having an asset like Hamilton tickets would allow me to do something special in memory of my Dad (more about him here).

And if you don’t win, you can always buy some Hamilton swag for enjoyment at home.

Bidding ends 8/24/16. Bid early, bid often, bid now! SOLD! Thank you so much for your support.

*In exchange for a winning bid on ebay. This is a fundraiser for science, after all.

All these terrible anniversaries

I knew to dread Christmas. Because obviously, Mom and my first Christmas without Dad would be hard. My body created a buffer of sorts: I was sick in bed with bronchitis for three days beginning Christmas Eve, leaving Mom to fend for herself. I was so ill I couldn’t even feel guilty until later.

Christmas circa 1978 20150909_203232

I anticipated that the month of February would be painful between Valentine’s Day and Mom’s birthday. Dad was a romantic who enjoyed planning surprises for his wife and took pride in his gift giving.

I had no idea how painful my birthday would be. The first October 16 without Dad in this world, how it hurt. I was heartbroken all over again. Continue reading

I am a monster

My mother is crying.

I am sitting with my arms around her in a gesture meant to comfort, but it’s a perfunctory effort. My arms may as well be made of wood, and my heart, of stone.

It’s February and we are in Florida, attempting to celebrate my mother’s first birthday without Dad. Mom is raw and unsteady. As brittle and delicate as a fallen leaf. When I arrive at the airport, I hug her and try to find the right thing to say. Saying the wrong thing, even a sincere “how are you?” brings her to tears some days. But my own eyes stay dry.

I am a terrible daughter.

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Continue reading

I wish

I wish one of you would go to the grocery store with me to physically prevent me from buying the avocados I never seem to eat before they rot.

pee wee

 

I wish this great Modern Love column had told us more about the hitchhiker. WHAT HAPPENED?! Continue reading

My totally lousy Christmas (and not for the reasons I expected)

I had never thought to make a list of questions I don’t want to be asked in the presence of my mother. That is, not until my mother took me to a hometown ER for the first time in my adult life this past Saturday.

Upon my arrival in triage, the ER nurse spoke.

“What is your weight? Please step on the scale.”

ER

WEIGHED IN FRONT OF MY MOTHER? THANKS DUDE-NURSE.

I wobbled in that direction–partly from illness, mostly from dread. I had been sick for about three days, but unfortunately my appetite for Christmas cookies was unaffected. My weight, a number carefully hidden from Mom, would soon be revealed. Continue reading

Last Christmas

As Adrienne, Christina and I walked through the crowded Union Square holiday market, I cracked a terrible joke. We’d just had brunch at Javelina. Maybe it was the margarita.

Javelina

Remembering the money I spent last Christmas on gifts for Dad at that same market, I asked “think I can get my money back?” before mumbling “gallows humor.”

It probably wasn’t funny to my friends and if anything, I might have made them uncomfortable. Fortunately the subject was changed for us as the hordes of Christmas shoppers pushed us through the market like leaves floating in a strong current.

Briefly separated, I was left thinking about how different this Christmas will be without my sweet Dad.


Last Christmas, I went to one of Dad’s doctor’s appointments with him and my mother. He seemed to be doing well and proudly posed in front of a hospital sign featuring his terrific specialist. Dad’s breathing was pretty good and he was able to walk longer distances than he had in recent history. I was thrilled.

Dad

Continue reading