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The Reality of Losing Loved Ones in Different Ways
I remember calling my dad on his 82nd birthday from the hallway of my then-boyfriend’s temporary dorm-style apartment in Indianapolis. My dad and I didn’t have much to say to one another, so the call was short. But I remember the feeling of the new carpet under my bare feet and the cold draft shifting in between the corridor walls. I wish I could have said more, spent a few more minutes saying something, literally anything — just simply celebrating my dad.
