Two Years

Dad,

The calendar tells me it’s been exactly two years without you. How can that be? It feels like a lifetime ago but also the hurt is still so fresh. It’s like I put a bookmark on February 27, 2017 so I can always flip right back to it no matter how far away I get.

We sold the loft. It only took about three days and the new owner seems very nice. Nora and I packed up the place in a weekend. It was hard. We kept as much as we could and some of your neighbors helped us. Sometimes we wonder if we made the right choice but I don’t think either of us could have ever lived there again without you. I have to remind myself that places and things are not people, despite how much we both still felt you in the loft.

I won’t even attempt to update you on everything Trump and his cronies have done in the last two years. Just know that I have a better understanding of your contempt for Nixon. I can’t tell you how many times Nora and I have been almost glad you’re not here to see what’s happening to our country and its highest political office. You certainly wouldn’t be lacking in material for your stand up if you could bear to laugh at any of it.

Seth and I got married last September. You would have loved the wedding. It was all of our friends and family on a beautiful, sunny weekend in Chicago. Claire officiated and you would have enjoyed her jokes so much. We saved a seat for you in the front row with a bundle of tulips, your favorite. I still did a father daughter dance but everyone came up to dance and the whole place was packed. Into the Mystic, Van Morrison. I think that’s what we would have chosen. You were so missed and despite all of the wonderful speeches there was a gaping hole where yours would have been. I can’t imagine how you would have roasted Seth and entertained the crowd. I wish I could.

Nora’s getting married in June. I know, both of your daughters married off. You probably would have been in awe of how grown up that makes us seem, how old that makes you, but maybe we’re still your little girls no matter what.

Jessie and Erik got married in California and they just had a baby last week, Mac. Maya will now have someone to boss around which is great because she’s growing into quite the little adult. We’ll get to meet the new addition at Passover this year where you would have met him as well. Last year grandma put it best by saying each year we lose people but gain others. I just wish you were here still so they could laugh at their Great Uncle Frank.

I stopped doing improv. I know you always loved seeing me perform but along with it getting to be too much with a day job I also can’t imagine going on stage without being able to tell you about it. I know I acted embarrassed when you’d just show up to my shows in Denver unannounced but I loved how much you loved watching me perform. Maybe I’ll do it again one day but for now it’s too hard. I’m really sorry.

I don’t usually talk to you like this. I don’t believe you’re up in any sort of Heaven despite how nice and comforting that would be. Maybe you’re not anywhere at all but I do see you in my dreams and it’s jarring and special and comforting in its own way. I didn’t write you a birthday card this year like I wanted to. Seth and I were in Florence on our honeymoon for your birthday and I think you would have loved to hear about our Italian adventures. Maybe that was enough of a birthday present.

The real reason I don’t talk to you often is because I’m crying too hard just writing this. The well of sadness I feel without you has no bottom and so I sometimes avoid climbing into it because I know I’ll never come back out. I do think about you everyday and I really need you here. What pains me the most is knowing how much you wanted to be here, too.

Two years of grieving you has been so hard, I can’t imagine doing this every year for the rest of my life. But I would do anything for you, and since missing you is all I can do then so be it. On to year three.