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<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>

<p>Some people look for shapes in clouds. Last night, after the fire died down to embers, we started looking for shapes in the embers. The low burning fire and smoke gave some of the shapes the gift of movement. It was late, we were tired, but we didn’t want to go to bed. I didn’t [&hellip;]</p>

<p>It rained last night. But it didn’t come down hard, nor did it last long. There were too many clouds to watch the sunrise, but the sky was a brilliant shade of orange, pink, and yellow. G3 was really tired this morning so he opted to sleep in. I can’t blame him. We were up [&hellip;]</p>

<p>You know me, I don’t like New Jersey. Also, if you’ve followed me the last couple of years, you know we have a problem when it comes to going home after our vacation. We just don’t want to do it. And so we procrastinate. We find things to do to delay the inevitable. Since we [&hellip;]</p>

<p>G3 and I woke up early to watch the sunrise from the dunes. We couldn’t actually see the sun. It was hiding behind a cloud, but it didn’t matter. The sky was still stunning—swirls of bright orange and yellow lighting up the clouds. Once the sun was up we took a walk down the beach [&hellip;]</p>

<p>G3 and I woke up early to watch the sunrise over the ocean. I love watching sunsets, but I enjoy sunrises even more. There is something peaceful about seeing the sun—a blazing pinkish red ball—climb into the sky. The beach was quiet this morning with only a few other people awake to see the sunrise. [&hellip;]</p>

<p>We got stuck in a terrible storm last night. Lightning continuously lit up the sky and rain poured down so heavily we couldn’t see out of the windshield. Kati pulled off the road and we sat in a gas station parking lot waiting for it to subside. When there was a break in the storm, [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Our first stop this morning was the Angel Oak tree on John’s Island in Charleston. It is on the list Kati found as the most beautiful tree in America. And it is impressive. It’s limbs are so long and twisted, it looks like a cross between a tree and an octopus. Some limbs reach out [&hellip;]</p>