You learn something when your estranged father passes. It’s like losing sight of something from your peripheral – you understand that something is missing in your field of vision, but you can’t place just what it is. And the more you look around, the more you realize its absence. The more you begin to comprehend …
A little over a year ago, I made my father smile. It’s the first smile I’ve seen on his face in a long time. He lay in a hospital bed, recovering from an amputation. At least trying to recover from an amputation. The doctors, try as they might, cannot get his heart to climb up …
Hey Dad, what do you think about your son now? Few years ago, I wrote a letter to Javier and never meant to send it. A vent. Something written out of anger. As much as I say I practice certain Buddhist philosophies and practices, I can never put the anger behind me. Even after all …
I cleaned the mess I call a room this week. While doing so, I found two short stories that never made it passed the first draft. Both were, oddly enough, titled after Bob Dylan songs. “Not Dark Yet” is about a man who flashes back to his childhood on his way to his father’s funeral. …
As a kid, when my cats vanished, my family would tell it was because they went looking for their home. In no way was this an euphemism for death. It was an euphemism for sex. Hope in November: Sitting on the bus from Chapin to Boroughs listening to the flavor of the month, a band …
