Love Out Loud: A Study in Navigating Grief

 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

 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&