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<p>Shortly after Dad died, I started taking pictures of empty benches. Initially, they were in places that reminded me of Dad, places that he should still have been visiting with me. Each bench represented countless memories, so many wonderful experiences we shared together. But then my family and I took a road trip, and my [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Last night was awful. I hardly slept. Every time I drifted off to sleep I saw Dad’s face pressed against the window of the back door. The handle would rattle, but he couldn’t get inside. I’d rush to the door, eager to let him in, but each time I woke up before I could reach [&hellip;]</p>

<p>When my son was little — four or five — I was telling him about my grandfather (my mother’s father) and I told him that Poppy was the best cook. My son got mad. He wrinkled his brow and scolded me, “You’re wrong, my grandfather is the best cook.” I countered, “Nope, my grandfather definitely [&hellip;]</p>

<p>I was thirty-four when I had to write a research paper for the very first time. Yep, you read that correctly. I made it through high school, college, and my first tour of graduate school (keep in mind I attended NYU for both my undergraduate degree and my degree in education) before I finally landed [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Friday, I woke up so dizzy and nauseous I couldn’t even stand up. I almost never miss my morning workout, but I simply could not get out of bed. When I finally forced myself up to go to the bathroom, I threw up. My head felt like it had been used in a soccer match. [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, G3 thought of you today. Actually, whenever he sees a goose he thinks of you. He loves reminiscing about the story you told him — oh so many years ago — about the time when you were little and a goose bit your butt. Today, after we finished our homeschool lessons, G3 wanted [&hellip;]</p>

<p>The one year anniversary of Dad’s hospitalization and death, combined with Easter and funeral preparations is the perfect storm for a serious depression. For weeks now, every time I tried to begin composing Dad’s eulogy in my head, I didn’t get further than a sentence or two before tears washed the rest out of my [&hellip;]</p>

<p>A year ago today, I raced across state lines to bring my father Tylenol. When he accepted my offer to drive an hour an a half to bring it to him — an an hour and a half back — I knew he was really sick. He would never have consented to such an inconvenience [&hellip;]</p>

<p>My son has completed the fifth grade curriculum. Therefore, starting this week, we will operate only on a four day work week. Four days of classes and one day to go out and do something fun. Today, my spouse had off from work so we headed into Pennsylvania to go hiking in Wissahickon Park. It [&hellip;]</p>

<p>One year ago today, my son, my spouse, and I all had our first virtual day of school. It did not go well. I knew immediately that I would not survive the semester. My son was cranky and irritable, and halfway through his assignments I was already talking about pulling him out of school. Watching [&hellip;]</p>

<p>My son thinks I work him too hard. Maybe I do. Maybe he’s just used to having classmates around to take away some of the attention and pressure. Maybe it’s a combination of both. But I imagine it can’t be all bad for him. I rarely assign homework, and he hasn’t had a test since [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Friday, March 12, marked one full year since my son has been home from school. Schooling this year has been a nightmare for so many families. Children across the nation are falling behind. But in this year of absolute misery and sorrow, my son’s education has been a bright spot. While other parents are pushing [&hellip;]</p>

<p>My mom asked me to post the information about Dad’s funeral/memorial mass. So here are the details: April 14 (the one year anniversary of his death) 11:30 AM Sacred Heart Church 83-17 78th Avenue Glendale, NY 11385 Today has a been a bad day — actually the whole week has been difficult. We are back [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, I had gotten so used to you being here that sometime I feel like I simply can’t function properly any more. How many times had I called you up asking for parenting advice or to calm G3 when he didn’t like a decision I made?&nbsp; G3 joined the Boy Scouts and now he [&hellip;]</p>

<p>After reading about my frustration over not being permitted to have two speakers at my father’s funeral, my cousin suggested I contact the deacon. She reminded me that he and my father had corresponded after connecting on a neighborhood Facebook page. I took her advice and sent him an email. There was no anger in [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Mom and I went up to the rectory at Sacred Heart Church today to finally schedule a funeral/memorial mass for Dad. It’s going to be on April 14, the anniversary of his death. The secretary gave us the standard packet of forms to fill out in which we have to select the hymns and readings. [&hellip;]</p>

<p>I have reached my breaking point. I am completely falling apart. The last time it was March and I was writing, Dad was dying. Since last year, COVID had taken: My Dad My Health My Job My Mother’s Happiness I think losing any one of the top three would have put my over the edge, [&hellip;]</p>

<p>My son loves the stars. He enjoys going to the beach at night in the summer, and pointing out the constellations he recognizes. There are just a few he knows, and sadly, I’m not much help. Unlike my son, I’ve never been interested in astronomy. But for his sake, I try. One year for Christmas, [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Two years ago, the breaks on my car died. The car was fourteen years old and it had served me well. But it was too dangerous to drive any more. I could have saved the car with new breaks and probably gotten thousands of more miles out it However, my part time job as an [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, I didn’t want to teach today. I’m tired of teaching. No, that’s not true. I enjoy teaching G3, but I’m tired of constantly being the one in charge. All day, every day, I toggle between being G3’s mom and being his teacher. I’m constantly telling him what to do, what not to do, [&hellip;]</p>