When my dad died, we didn’t technically sit shiva. Instead, we sat on the couch watching Dancing with The Stars Juniors in an indecisive silence for four to five days.
My mom, brother and my aunt. It felt like forever. I remember turning it on so we didn’t have to think about it. Drowning out our profound and palpable grief with the exploitation of child actors, Stevie Wonder’s son and Sarah Palin’s grandkid.
My dad died from Parkinson’s in October of 2018, although I thought he would die in surgery back in 2013 when suddenly he was calling me on speakerphone with my mom on their way down to Denver for a “quick cardio check-up” his cardiologist had encouraged.
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