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<p>I slept much better last night. No cranky child or dog woke me, but that might be because I didn’t leave my ear plugs in the car. I remembered them before I hunkered down into my sleeping bag. It was also a good deal warmer. After two days of history, today was a nature day. [&hellip;]</p>

<p>It was cold last night, but it was the crying kid and barking dog in the site next to us that kept me up, not the cold. I kept trying to fall back to sleep but then my bladder felt as if it was about to explode so I gave up, slithered out of my [&hellip;]</p>

<p>We’re terrible parents. We like taking advantage of the three day Memorial Day weekend in order to escape town for a bit and go camping. This year, we got a bonus day. When Kati and I found out that we were each getting Friday off due to unused snow days we decided to go extend [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, We were supposed to head down to Durham, North Carolina for a tournament this weekend, but at the last minute G3 decided he didn’t want to go. I don’t really know why. He said he was tired of driving long hours this season, but I’m not sure that is the real—or full— reason. [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, I’m not sure I want to do Taekwondo any more. On Friday night, G3 and I had our midterm. I did well on the Forms and Weapons components of the test, but during sparring I was paired up with a teenage boy. I’m nearly fifty. My body is haunted by old sports injuries [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, G3 has been cranky all day. It was our first day in a long time where we didn’t have anything planned. No Taekwondo. No Boy Scouts. Nothing. It wasn’t too cold and even though it was cloudy, it wasn’t raining, so I suggested we go out for a hike or go caching. G3 [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, We left work and school early on Thursday to catch our flight to Dallas so that G3—and I—could compete in Spring Nationals. G3 was super excited about the trip. The night before we left, he came into my study while I was writing and announced, “I have too much of my grandfather’s blood [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, I’m no stranger to disappointment, but that doesn’t make it any easier. We didn’t get the house we wanted. We put in an aggressive offer, but obviously, it wasn’t aggressive enough. I’m starting to feel like we will never get a house, never get G3 in a better school. I know I’m not [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, I’m sorry it’s been awhile since I wrote. I guess I haven’t had much to say, plus work has been keeping me busy. This weekend though, I’ve been thinking about you a great deal. I lost count of how many times I wished I could talk to you, either asking for advice or [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, G3’s thirteenth birthday was quiet. He used to get so excited the morning of his birthday knowing that you and Mom were going to visit. From the moment he woke up, he’d ask when you were going to get there. His restlessness drove me nuts, but I’d give anything for him to be [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, You told me to go to the movie theater at a different time, but I didn’t listen. I was too focused on telling you that you were dead, too preoccupied with trying understand your sudden appearance when I should have been listening to you. But how could I possibly have known you were [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, For the first ten years of G3’s life, you took him to Rockefeller Center around Christmas time to see the tree. Then, COVID shut everything down and you died, so the last two years we didn’t go. G3 always enjoyed that trip, in part I think, because you spoiled him. This year, he [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, You called it. When I initially decided to go back to Taekwondo to earn my black belt, you said, “It won’t be long until you start competing, too. You won’t be able to resist. Competing has always meant too much to you.” Well, you were right. You always did know me better than [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, This was our third Thanksgiving without you and I miss you as much as ever. I still get out of my car when I get to New York half expecting you to open your back door and pull me in for a hug. A holiday just isn’t right without that hug. This year, [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, There are days that the pain of missing you is as sharp as it was the day you died. Today is one of those days. I got home from a Boy Scout camping trip and all I wanted to do was call you up and tell you all about it. I wanted to [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, You’ve been dead now for two and a half years. The missing is supposed to get easier, and yet, this fall your absence feels heavier than ever. Everything about the fall reminds me of you and Mattituck. And every time I think about all the falls we spent with you when G3 was [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, Could you please ask the universe to stop beating me up? I’m tired of the dark cloud that follows me, the darkness that ensures that every step I take is plagued with problems and difficulties. Last night, Kati and I were sitting in the living room when all of a sudden we heard [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, G3 had a fantastic weekend. The only thing that would have made it better is if you had been here to be with him. And if you were here, there is no doubt in my mind that you and Mom would taken a mini-vacation to watch G3 compete in his first National Tournament. [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, It has been a crappy week—I mean that both literally and figuratively. Wednesday morning, I put a load of laundry in the washing machine. When I went back downstairs, about an hour later, to put the clothes into the dryer, water was pouring out of the ceiling over the basement sink. Okay, maybe [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Dear Dad, I’m sorry, I haven’t written in awhile. We were away this summer and then school started up and I’ve been too depressed to write. Allegedly, there is a teacher shortage. But I question the validity of that since I remain unemployed. In the last month, I’ve applied to dozens of school districts. Mostly, [&hellip;]</p>