Sometimes we’d buy him gift certificates that he’d lose under the seat of his car or CDs he wanted but which still had the shrink wrap on them when he died. The things he treasured the most were the XXL sleep shirts with his grandchildren’s photos ironed on them. In fact, Beth would pay for the shirts and transfers, and I’d take the pictures and do the ironing.
The last few were a large. We took them to the rehab center on Christmas, and he cried. I’d only seen him cry maybe one other time in my life, and that was when hisfather died. I’m wearing one of those shirts now, a photo of Serena kissing Marcus. My dad never got to wear it.
I have been in a bad mood for eleven months. If I ever had patience, it left with my father. I’m easily frustrated, often angry, moody, pensive, and very lonely. It would be easier to count the days I didn’t cry on my way to work. I am like a gurgling volcano. It’s very hard to tell when it’s safe to come near me.