My Twenty-Something Quasi-Soap

Dear Dad, Who knows why I'm putting this in my ancient blog? Why I'm posting it to the internet. Shouting into the void and simultaneously preserving this forever. I guess it's the easiest way to get my thoughts down. Typing can be easier than writing, and it helps me get the words out faster without editing myself. I think about you every day, and I feel like I have more questions than answers, Something moved me to fire up the blog and write, so here I am. It's been a little over seven months since you've been gone. Thinking about the days and months and years leading up to that point feel like a temporal version of the Stations of the Cross. I don't know where the Beginning of the End actually sits in that timeline, but Christmas feels like a good starting point. The last Christmas that we all spent together. Did the tree fall down at all that year? If it didn't, was it a sign that we missed? My birthday dinner in Newark: Mom usually covers the check,