For Christmas, my son wrote me a letter chronicling my past year. He wrote about my dad’s death, grieving at Disney World, his coming out and his pushing me away when I tried to get close. About my emotional growth. About how I learned to share my feeling.

I’d been thinking about my past year, too.
  • Kidney stones: a surgery to get them out after they were already gone and retrieving the stint they’d put in. A challenging year at work that tested my ego and pride. 
  • Gaining and losing guardianship of my 87-year-old godfather, way up in New York City. 
  • Timmy Dolan’s new cancer and worrying along with him through his recovery.
  • How I bent the ears of my good friends during my commutes, asking can-you-believe-this while I drove 30 minutes (thanks for that, friends). 
  • My job was tenuous throughout the year. My project was put on hold and I was terrified I’d be considered overhead and tossed aside. 
  • … and Dad died.
So have a seat. I’ll tell you about it.