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July 27, 2018

I wish July 27, 2015 was just the day my dad died and not the day I watched my dad die.

When my dad died, my first feeling wasn’t grief or sorrow or unbearable sadness but relief because standing for forty minutes around a hospital bed watching somebody gasp themselves...

July 27, 2017

My dad is dead today. He’s been dead this whole past week. He might have been dead the week before as well. But not the one before that. He was alive and well two weeks ago. He woke up at 6:30am in his house in Novi, Michigan two weeks ago and got ready for his day. I...

July 27, 2016

My dad died a year ago today. He stopped gasping for air and his heart stopped. Or his heart stopped and so he stopped gasping for air. Either way, I’m sure I got the medicine wrong, but those scenarios are what I’ve held close to me as truths for a year now. My dad ha...

March 30, 2016


The night before the eight-month anniversary of my dad's death, I had the first in what's become a string of somewhat bizarre dreams about him. I haven't decided yet if these dreams are better or worse than never seeing him.

 

I dreamt that I was out in the hot sun on t...

November 11, 2015

I’ve never liked saying that my dad passed away. I’ve said it before. I’ve said it over and over and over again—or I feel like I have anyways—and every time it comes out of my mouth, something inside me winces. It feels like a lie. He didn’t “pass away.” He died.

 

He di...

October 9, 2015

I don’t ever see him.  He doesn’t visit me.  I don’t feel his presence.  Instead, infrequently, I have dreams that are all about his absence. That are consumed with the reality of his absence.  How he isn’t here anymore and everyone in my life is trying desperately to...

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July 27, 2018

July 27, 2017

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