Making Cookies in Salem's House

Hey Salem,

You know how sometimes we make cookies in your little blanket house before bed? You take eggs, milk, flour and chocolate chips from a locked pantry and fridge (my hand), and mix them all together. Then we put them in the oven and read books while they bake. Somehow there are always actual cookies there when you come back to check on them.. 

;)

Lasagna

Remember that time I ran into Brad at Kroger, right in the middle of buying things to make me a lasagna?

Epilogue

My father-in-law was right when he told me this would not be a new chapter but rather a sequel. I like that analogy much better, but it has me wondering when one book officially ends and when another begins. 

Tomorrow we are meeting with my father's two sisters to share old photographs and make some plans for the memorial service next weekend. I think that will be the end of this book and next will come a new beginning.

That scares the shit out of me for some reason, but I've always welcomed the future with open arms. 

Plastic Bag Stuck in a Tree

Hey there, plastic bag stuck in a tree. I noticed that you haven't gone anywhere in a while and you must be snagged pretty good. I'm sorry to say this, but I'm here to break your oath of silence while I break one of my own. You see, I'm finally alone, and I haven't really taken a minute to be alone in a while. 

I hope you're not cold up there. I'm cozy in a blanket on my new couch just enjoying this moment, but suddenly I realized that you've probably been watching me for some time now. I'm kind of a mess, but I'm slowly getting better. As my friend Gregg reminded me, recovery is a gradual process. Today I will just be low and start my climb up from here.

What am I supposed to do with these beautiful broken pieces? I'm told that when grief hits us we fall to pieces, but it's only when we fall to pieces that we can see how beautiful they are on their own. 

Insert: analogy of that form of Japanese pottery where broken pieces are put back together with gold.

It's you and me again, bag stuck in a tree. I think you're a Target bag. I've had hundreds of people write to me online and dozens call about my father, and currently I want nothing to do with them. I'd rather be here hanging out with you. 

I just want to be left alone and I feel terrible about it. When my father was passing, things got really rough upon his final days. It was a lot for my mother and I to deal with, but we handled it with grace and love. Now it's three days later (feels like a month) and I'm talking to a bag in a tree while curled up in blankets. 

I need some time, I guess, and I know deeply that I need something new to grab me by the soul. Maybe I'm looking for a book or something obvious, but maybe it's bigger than that. I just have to hold on and give my heart some time to heal.

 

Louis Ardagna

My father died this morning. 

Blue Stegosaurus

Where to begin? I'm sitting in the basement of my parents' house somewhere near the old entertainment center. I used to play video games here (the same ones I still play, but this is where I experienced them for the first time). Somehow it's my escape from all of this madness that is happening under this room.

My dad is dying. I don't know how to word that better. He's currently in a pre-active coma and cirrhosis has almost completely claimed his life. It's the most confusing thing ever, and it is unreal to even think about. I can't indulge myself by wondering what caused this because I am not sure we will ever find those answers.

My wife, my son and I moved back into this house about a week ago (feels like a year ago) to be with my mom and help take care of my ailing father. Mom and I are taking turns having a very hard time with this, but we are in strong agreement of how to take care of him. He's truly in good hands right now.

Salem gave Pop-pop a blue stegosaurus, and he hasn't let go of it since.

I can tell that mom has been downsizing in this house, but I guess I shrugged it off a bit. It's so empty in here compared to when I was younger. It's like she is getting ready to leave as soon as Dad passes, and I can't say I disagree with her about that. However, I'm sitting here in this dark corner of the basement remembering my childhood as if it were a movie I'll never be able to watch again. 

Somewhere inside of me there is a little boy version of myself that is very upset right now. It feels like I've been reading a really beautiful book, but peaked ahead to upcoming chapters and they were all blank, as if this is where my story with my father ends. That is such a painful feeling.

I'm frozen. I'm lost for words.