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Post-Mortem Gift of Empathy
It would be another eight months after her funeral until I stepped foot into the apartment again. My father contacted me and told me that he wanted to get rid of everything and asked me if I wanted to come pick up her clothes, her albums, and any other possessions of my choosing. After recovering…
Mare Winningham’s Parakeet
My mother could never get along well with the neighbors. But there was one in particular who she really, really loved to hate. She nicknamed her Mare Winningham because she was the actress’s doppelgänger. In the beginning, right after they moved in, everything was copacetic. I would go over to Mare’s house to play with…
In The End, I Couldn’t Save Him – Part I
On October 4th, 2018, while my father slept in his ICU bed, I ran a horary chart with the question: “Does my father have cancer?” Less than a week earlier, I received a voicemail from him telling me that he was in the hospital. We had been in one of our estranged periods several months…
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Tales of a Suburban Barbiturate Baby 