Sometimes I wonder if one day my siblings and I will gather in the weeks or months after my youngest brother turns 67 to acknowledge that we made it, that we all passed that milestone my dad never did.
A Few Good Books: April
Auggie’s facial deformities are such that people react instinctually and poorly upon seeing him. The book follows his fifth grade year as he makes friends, deals with bullies and adjusts to life in school, all told through the perspectives of Auggie and the people who surround him. I loved this book and I loved reading it with Liam. I’d intended to read it to him each night, but he was quickly hooked and went ahead without me. This left us fighting for possession of the book regularly.
On Birth and Death and When They're Connected
When she was first born I worried about her. I worried that because she grew so close to such a broken heart for so many months she would enter the world broken-hearted, filled with an inherited sadness. And when I lay her down on her polka dotted bedding, thinking of the story of my dad in his own crib, I still worry.
On Being a Principal Mourner
Whenever Liam catches me crying he takes my face in his little hands and searches my eyes for tears. Upon finding them he proclaims, “Mommy’s happy! Mommy’s happy!” with manic desperation, as though he could will me into a state of happiness. I understand his behavior completely as I watch my mom sob over my dad’s body. It is all I can do not to grab her by the shoulders and shout, “Mommy’s happy! Mommy’s happy!”
My Dad's Eulogy
The greatest gift he gave to us was unconditional love. My dad loved with a grace that astounds me. I never questioned if he loved me. After my fourth (or sixth) car accident my dad still wholeheartedly defended my driving skills. (At that point even I was ready to admit that I sucked.) I never grew up feeling like I had to be anything more than I was in the eyes of my dad. He gave us all a sense of “ok-ness” in a world that is always asking for more.