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Day 961

 My dad used to gently tease my mom because she cries easily. A sweet commercial or kids book could instantly bring tears. He would tell people even parades caused waterworks. Today I'm the one crying through a parade. Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade has always been the most important part of the holiday for my dad. I remember snuggling in with him under a big blanket with plates of cinnamon rolls and big cups of cocoa in our laps. He would show us all of the people working together to move each massive float and get excited when he caught a glimpse of a character coming up that he knew we would love. Thanksgiving morning was magic.  As we got older we chose to sleep through the parade, more often than not. He would still make the cinnamon rolls and watch the parade alone on the couch. We'd tumble out of bed eventually and usually catch Santa on tv before the parade ended. I wish I could get those parades back.   When my eldest son was old enough to be interested, he would s
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Day 944

 My dad rides shotgun. I'm an anxious driver (an anxious everything, really) and he is good at calming me down and making me laugh. He's not really there, of course. He's dead. But he's so easy to conjure when I need him. I speak to him out loud and make faces towards the passenger seat and I'm sure I've worried someone who has noticed me chatting away at nothing. I've "seen" my grandfathers for as long as I can remember. It's not like seeing a ghost. I know I'm imagining them. They would take turns in the front seat and the other would sit between the kids' car seats in the back and lean forward and make jokes while I drove or snuggle up to my babies. They were with me when I started the long drive to my parents' house 944 days ago.  We'd been eating dinner. Mom called my husband's phone and he couldn't understand what she was saying. Something about Daddy collapsing in the garden. My husband handed me the phone. I don&
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Day 932

 Death crept up on me. The sun was shining. A soft breeze, the smell of spring, and my dad, lying lifeless in the grass. We ran out of time and we didn't even know the clock was counting down. We don't have an expiration date stamped on our ass. It's been 932 days. It isn't any easier. We do our life; our kids go to school, the adults go to work, we navigate the pandemic alongside everyone else. We just have to watch our step. A massive hole was blown in our world. Sometimes we fall in.  On those days I feel like my eyes may never dry. I just leak from my face continuously, grateful for the mask I wear in public spaces that hides the inevitable runny nose. I'm used to tears now. They won't embarass me. I don't mind if strangers see my grief but it does make me feel guilty on occasion. They didn't consent to my mess.  A funny thing happens when your world falls apart though. Your lose your tolerance for bullshit. I'm not interested in putting on a smi
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