little letters

Dear Self,
It's okay to still feel sad and not be at 100%.
P.S. Hang in there. Just gotta make it through this week!

Dear funeral home,
Chick-Fil-A nuggets at my dad's service? Uh, awesome.

Dear friends,
I can't tell you how much your calls, e-mails, gifts and presence has meant to me (especially to MB and Amie, who traveled so far to give me a real-life hug).

Dear Chapel Hill,
What's up with all the chain restaurants now? Sad. Also, your college students are looking younger than ever.

Dear Chapel Hill bartender,
Thanks for carding me. And also for looking surprised at my birthday.

Dear North Carolina,
Seriously? Fried Kool-Aid?

Dear Monkey,
I love how you purr loudly in the morning for no reason at all. Thanks for reminding me that life is good.

Dear Dad,
As the poem goes, I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart). I always will, because you are a piece of me.

doing my best

I can't believe that most workplaces only allow three days of bereavement leave! Thank goodness I'm freelance and Tim happened to have a vacation planned. (Sadly, it supposed to be a cruise with Dad.) Even after 10 days, I feel like there's so much left to do. And now that I'm back in New York, I've been struggling to get back on track. All of my editors have been so incredibly sweet and understanding, but it's time to play serious catch-up. Truth be told, large chunks of my heart and mind are still in North Carolina. My solution is just to take it one deadline at a time, and not to be too hard on myself. Another thing that makes it easier: Face-timing with Mom. We decided to get her an iPad and—miracle of miracles—she's actually learned how to use it. Well, there's usually a good five minutes of telling her to put her face in front of the device, but the fact that we can video-chat amazing. Hooray for Apple!

finding comfort

I can safely say that this stretch of losing my dad and figuring out how to take care of my mom is probably one of the saddest of my life. Even so, we're finding laughter, joy and comfort in the little things, like...


...eating deep-fried fare the North Carolina State Fair. There was fried pecan pie, cheesecake, Twinkies, pizza and even butter and Kool-Aid, but we stuck with plain old cinnamon-sugar elephant ears. (I'm thinking that decision saved us from the e. coli outbreak.)


...visiting our alma mater's (UNC) beautiful campus.


...gazing at gorgeous flowers sent by dear friends.


...scooping up congee at breakfast. (See the black thousand-year-old eggs? We still couldn't convince Erik to eat one.)

life goes on

I'm headed back to NYC today. This past week and a half has gone by in a blur. While I'm excited to give Erik and Monkey big squeezes, I'm also really sad and nervous to leave my mom. The plan so far is that I'm going to try to visit once a month or so to help out—at least, until we can move her near Tim and Sherry. Life is about to change, and that's scary. But I also know that we're luckier than most, and that Tim and I are really capable, strong adults who can handle a lot. We have our parents to thank for that.

P.S. We also have Sherry to thank, too. She has been so wonderful, supportive and lovely, through and through.

a eulogy

Here's a passage from my brother's eulogy for my dad. Isn't it just so beautiful? (Note: This was right after he told a funny anecdote about how my dad bought a really crappy jalopy from a used-car auction back in college, which subsequently self-combusted in flames.)

"For my dad life was never about driving around in a nice car, or wearing nice clothes. I think he saved his money so that we could be ensured of a secure future. For him it was about being there for his family, and the time he spent with us.

In recent months when I’ve spoken with my dad by phone, one thing that he worried about was that I was working too hard. He would say, 'Tim, don’t work too hard.' This kinda stuck out to me. Seeing how hard my dad worked in his life, and after pushing me to work hard while growing up, I found it a little odd. He had instilled a work ethic in me, having to do back breaking yard work all the time, emphasizing my homework and my studies, propelling me through med school. But thinking about it, in the end I think that he wanted to say was that he wanted me to also to learn to enjoy life, and to stay healthy. He wanted to me to enjoy each others’ company, and the time we have with our loved ones.

My father essentially lived for his family, for us to have a better life. Seeing his family now, and looking back on his life as a while, I know he doesn’t have any regrets. And even though I didn’t get one last chance to spend time with him on that cruise, I can look back fondly on the memories I do have, and be thankful for my dad, and all that he means to me. I also feel that life is good, and that I can look forward to the life to come, largely in part to having been raised by such a good man as my father."

grieving

Grief is a funny thing. Since my dad died, there's been a surprising amount of stuff to do. I've been running around, meeting with the funeral home, organizing the service, notifying friends, emailing editors, running to the airport and writing cards and eulogies, among other errands. And that's without tackling the 5-pound "What Do I Do Now?" book about documents and notifications that the funeral director gave us! So, basically, I've been on auto-pilot without time to really sit and cry. Instead, the tears crop up at the most random times: on a short drive to Blockbuster, after the grocery store checkout person asked where my dad was. As sad as I am, I'm taking solace in many things. My dad lived for his family, and it makes me happy that he knew how much we loved him in his later years. I'm so grateful that I didn't let work or frivolous stuff get in the way of the things that really mattered: friends, family, and love.

my dad

Isn't this pic from Tim and Sherry's wedding priceless? It totally captures my dad's warm and happy demeanor. I already miss him so much.

today

Today is the day my dad died. I'm heartbroken, but I'm also so grateful. I'm thankful that I got to spend time with him recently; that he knew how much we loved him; that I have such a wonderful family and support system; and, above all, that he was my amazing father.

le sigh

Is it bad that I have about a zillion deadlines, yet I can't stop daydreaming about our trip? I have totally become The Girl Who Can't Let Go of Vacation. On Saturday, I wore a very bundled-up French scarf to the farmer's market even though the weather was spring-like; I sweated profusely over the organic kale. On Sunday, I filled my basket with fresh prosciutto, mozzarella, baguettes and Pellegrino at the pricey specialty shop, and paid dearly for it. To snap me out of this alter-universe, I've made a bunch of fun plans for the weekend to remind me how much I adore my New York life, too. Don't make fun of my striped shirt and beret, though, okay?

vacation part 2: three days in Rome

When we were planning this trip, Italy was an afterthought. Paris was our desired destination, but since we could tack on an additional city for just a little extra, we settled on Rome. It was fortuitous: We adored every moment there! The people were warm, the food delicious and the sights amazing. Everywhere we turned, there was something incredible to look at.



Again, our hotel, Hotel des Artistes, was nothing to write home about, but we spent all of our time roaming around. The Trevi fountain and Pantheon in particular took my breath away (try seeing them at night!). We walked so much that, by the end of the trip, we had multiple songs about our aching feet. The silver lining? I was always hungry.


That was a good thing, because the food was beyond incredible. I'll never forget a three-hour meal we had in Travestere: the lemon-ricotta ravioli melted in my mouth. We also loved the paper-thin pizza we ate at a local spot. Of course, every meal was washed down with chianti and finished with creamy tiramisu.



A few favorite moments: At the Villa Borghese gardens, we floated around the lake on a row boat; it felt like a dream. And I rang in my 33rd year at the Vatican. Although I've learned plenty about the Sistene Chapel, nothing prepared me for seeing Michaelangelo's ceiling in person. It's definitely a lifetime must-do!


On the flipside, we also hung in San Lorenzo, a very up-and-coming Bushwick-like neighborhood. There was graffiti on the walls (even the ancient ones!) and cool kids hanging in the piazza. It was nice to make a connection with some lovely, friendly homies. All in all, the trip was magical; it made me realize how truly blessed I am.

vacation part 1: four days in paris

Isn't it incredible how much you can fit into a week? Erik and I covered hundreds of miles, walking all over Paris and Rome. His uncanny sense of direction and Spanish definitely saved us (although he suspiciously managed to navigate us past every single men's clothing store on the way to sights).


A while back, we booked the trip for our birthdays from the super-cheap aggregator EuropeanDestinations.com. We randomly picked our hotels and wound up at Tryp de Saxe; our room was teeny-tiny, but clean and centrally located. Every morning, we dined on cappuccinos and croque monsieurs at sidewalk cafe or patisserie while Erik caught up on e-mails and I people-watched. Parisians truly have the best sense of style. Also, they tend to carry a baguette more often than not.




Then we hit the pavement to see the sights. We usually picked a few destinations—the Eiffel Tower, Louvre, Notre Dame, a store that carries Erik's line—and then meandered around the windy cobblestone streets on our way there, shopping and snacking on buttery croissants and sweet clouds of macarons.



One day, we rented the city bikes (tip: most of the machines only take AmEx) and pedaled past cascading fountains and wrought-iron-covered buildings. On Erik's birthday, we took the metro and elbowed past the crowds to visit a flea market, then sipped wine at the restaurant at the top floor of the Pompidou. In the background, the Eiffel tower twinkled like a giant sparkler.



But probably my favorite part of the trip was soaking up the local culture. We ate dinner with some of Erik's funny French streetwear homies in the charming Montmarte neighborhood. After we parted ways, Erik and I devoured a piping hot nutella-and-banana crepe from a stand. It was the perfect end to the French leg of our trip.

people of Rome

This is what happens when two very professional thirty-somethings vacation in Rome.

j'adore

Back home from the most amazing week celebrating our birthdays in Paris and Rome. I couldn't be more in love with this guy.

one-liners

...And I'm baaaaack! Seriously, that was the most frustrating week battling with Time Warner. Ugh, how is it that cable providers basically have a monopoly? Anyway, moving on: To recap, here a few mini-conversations from the past week.

Me (in a beginner's surf lesson): So, is the ocean always this choppy?
Instructor: Oh, no, this is like the worst day ever. Hey, here you go, a wave for you!

Cable repairman: Your Internet and cable are fixed!
Me to Erik: I don't even want to go to Europe anymore. Let's just stay here and watch TV.

Erik: I'm mailing a bunch of tees for a gallery show in Australia.
Me: Why don't you send a few more? Like all of these? (Pointing to entire room filled with Erik's old clothing samples.)

Me: Hi, mom, I bought a ticket home. I'm excited to see you.
Mom: Let's have a vacation here. We can go to the new shopping center. There's Harris Teeter!

Me to Monkey: Why are you so cute? You are only the best cat ever.
Monkey: Bdddrrrr.
Erik: Laughter.