My dad died on Valentine’s Day from a cancer in his brain that he fought for a year and a half. I’ll talk about that more one day, but what I want to say now comes from the buildup and the fallout. What I want to say is not about the suffering and turmoil that I watched my dad and my family experience for that year and a half, or the milestones we hit every day that I never mentioned, like the last day he had ice cream or went outside. I want to talk about him and I will. But today, I want to talk about the aftermath. People don’t know what to say about death and dying. They tell you they’re sorry and they could never do what you’re doing, they tell you how strong you are and graceful you’re being, admire how you’re “back to work” or “still able to have fun”. Grievers are told time and time again, nobody knows what the right thing to say is. And we have grace. Giggle it off and nod our heads, tell them thank you and it’s okay. Because it is okay. They aren’t doing anything wrong t...
I never believed in the whole waiting to tell someone you loved them. Or having to wait to make sure you’re in love. I feel like I love everyone I’ve ever really met in some way. Not to sound like an award-winning Netflix special, but this one’s for all of the people I’ve ever loved. There was the first “I love you.” I loved loving you. But this was the you who only showed me what love was by taking it away from me. There was the you who held the door for me, the you I saw at the red light. The you who taught me microeconomics. The you who was a girl. There’s the you who I wonder about every couple years, and I wonder if I should’ve told you I loved you way back then. There’s you who said you loved me and I didn’t love you back, (I hope you’re still doing good). And I liked you but you weren’t a very good conversationalist and then there was you and I wasn’t sure about the way you dressed. There was you, who had the sketchy friends, and you who I’d prob...