Eight Years

For the past eight years, I have spent June 9 thinking about my father and my own mortality. At my most self destructive, I would compare my father’s accomplishments with my own. While I still do this, these days I am able to correct the most distorted thinking by reminding myself of my own accomplishments and of what my father never accomplished.

Tomorrow, I will spend most of the day unpacking our new apartment, thinking of an awesome Pat Gleason story to share with the world, day drinking and ignoring anyone who I deem toxic. This is how I cope with my loss.

To be clear: I will never get over losing my dad or my mom. I was given a wonderful bit of advice when my dad just passed away: “Anyone who tells you to get over your dad can fuck off.” One does not get over grief. You just learn how to cope with it. I cope with it by ignoring ignorant mother fuckers and spending a day with my beautiful wife drinking New Glarus Beer.

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