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Navigating my father’s death, my mother’s needs, and the beautiful chaos of raising two young daughters with my wife.
Words: 10,350+
Reading Time: 40 Minutes
I didn’t expect life to look like this. I’m standing on the side of a road in a bee costume waiting for a tow truck. I lie sleepless between two restless daughters night after night. I sit with my father’s body for hours after his death.
In this essay, I try to navigate my father’s passing, my mother’s needs, and the beautiful chaos of raising two young daughters. Some of it’s funny, some of it’s somber: I explore midnight vigils with my phone, conversations about infinity and the infinite with my daughters, and the weight of generational trauma as it ripples through families.
All the while, I circle about a big issue introduced by my six-year-old: Why does life sometimes feel so itchy?
