Day 236

Pennsylvania declared Biden the winner today which gives him the 270 electoral votes he needs. When I read online that Biden was the President-Elect, I didn’t cheer. I didn’t even smile. I sat down on the kitchen floor and I cried. Because all I wanted to do was pick up the phone and call Dad. Dad had wanted Biden to run for president four years ago. He was disappointed when he didn’t, but still he voted for Hillary. At the start of the primary season, Dad backed Biden, immediately. Biden’s victory would have made Dad very happy. But he didn’t live to see it. Trump lost. The majority — a slim majority, but still a majority — of Americans had had enough and we fired him. But it’s too late for Dad. Trump’s lies killed him but a kind man’s victory won’t bring him back.

I am appalled at the posts I’m seeing on social media. Trump supporters and Republicans are telling Biden voters that we shouldn’t gloat. That we should give them — and Trump — time to process their loss. That we need to be mindful of their feelings. Are they freaking kidding me? For four years, Trump has mocked, belittled, and insulted everyone while his supporters cheered him on. During the election, his supporters waved flags and signs with slogans such as: “Trump 2020 Make Liberals Cry Again,” and “Trump 2020 Fuck Your Feelings.” Seriously, that was the Trump train rhetoric and now that they have lost, now that decency has been restored — or will be in January — to the White House, they want us to care about them. About their feelings. How can they not see the hypocrisy? Don’t tell me you want to see my cry again after Trump killed my father and then expect me to be compassionate toward you. Don’t tell me “Fuck Your Feelings” when I’m raging over Dad’d death and then ask me to consider your feelings. Sorry, it doesn’t work that way. You didn’t give a shit about me or my dad. So don’t expect met to be sympathetic toward you or Trump.

To celebrate Biden’s victory, my son and I had banana splits for lunch at the beach. We then practiced taekwondo and played frisbee on the sand. It was hot — 69 degrees. Warm for a November afternoon. So we went home, changed into our swim suits, and went swimming. I wanted today — the day Trump lost — to be a day my son would always remember. And swimming in November is something he shouldn’t ever forget.