We watched this powerful film about elementary school integration with the girls tonight.
Lovely that the two top-billed leads of the movie are the two white people in the movie.
Today marked 19 years since Dad died. I spent much of the emotion during my uncle’s funeral a few weeks ago, but it helped being surrounded by 450 of some of the greatest coworkers a guy could ask for.
Even though I only told one person, I appreciate y’all helping me stay social and making today a good day.
My uncle died yesterday. He was 62 years old.
I must admit learning of his passing yesterday morning, I cried for the first time I can remember. True, actual sobbing. I’m sure it was ugly. I didn’t cry when my dad died—a random tear here or there during the immediate events and cry some more recently looking back, struggling with his death still. But, I’ve never actually sobbed upon hearing sad news before yesterday morning.
We last saw him six weeks ago at a family reunion in South Dakota—an epic road trip for a family of seven. He didn’t look 100%. Within a week of us heading back to Texas, he found out that he had cancer. You always see these things better in hindsight.
My dad was one of 12 children—10 surviving past childhood. Of the 10, six brothers and four sisters. My dad was the first to pass away in 1997. Ed is now the 4th of the boys. While my uncles have always taken special care of me, be it their oldest brother’s youngest who lost Dad when I was 12, it has been such a joy for them to equally take a special interest in my kids. There are many things hard about not having Dad around to see them grow up and I’ve voiced difficulty in picturing Dad playing with my kids. Having my uncles treat my girls as I could imagine my Dad doing has been a true grace.
Of my uncles, he was the one whose looks and mannerisms reminded me most of Dad. I wanted him to live forever, even if it was unfair of me to want it, in part, because he helped me put an adult context to the fading childhood memories of my Dad dead 19 years. Quite selfish, to be honest. He was a good man who was kind, loving, and sweet in a wonderfully gruff way. I’m going to miss him dearly.
Blessed are those who have died in the Lord;
let them rest from their labors,
for their good deeds go with them.
Eternal rest grant unto him , O Lord.
And let perpetual light shine upon him.
May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Hundreds of times a year, civilians accuse military personnel of sexual assault. The cases can wind up in the military justice system, where many victims say they are at a big disadvantage.
This story is incredible for more than a few reasons: that 16 is the absolute age of consent in the UCMJ, the lack of assistance to civilian victims, victim therapists being compelled to explain their confidential notes.
Olivia’s 2nd grade class has a prayer “graffiti” wall where they can write names of those they want to pray for. Many are parents and such.
Olivia wrote my dad’s name. Her grandfather who died 12 years before she was born.
I don’t feel like I bring him up that often, but she gets that it was and is a big deal that he died long before anyone was ready or expecting him. She gets that it is a hole in my—and her—life to not have him here