I Have Good News

Every little bit of good news, every win, every joy, is tempered by the fact that I cannot share it with my parents.

This isn’t to say that they were the best supporters. Often, my mom was quite the opposite. But I know, deep down they were proud.

Long ago, I booked an extra job playing a UFO victim. I didn’t think my dad gave a shit.

I will never forget. I was on a train platform in Chicago, on the phone with him and he told me he went around the office showing people, “That’s my daughter!” He was proud. I was shocked and teary-eyed.

Yesterday, I had a lengthy, surprisingly heartfelt chat with my uncle. He’s the only man I routinely talk to and it’s a joy. He’s old school masculine: calm, respectful, down to earth, rolls up his sleeves, egalitarian, settled in himself, confident, no BS. He can take any situation and give it a verbal, offhand trepanning:

After my dad’s memorial (he was cremated), we all sat in the car, silent and out of nowhere, “Soooooo, which half did we get?”

That was a good laugh.