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.