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I keep trying to write about how my dad’s death has affected my feelings about God and religion and worship and faith. I keep trying, and failing. I’m failing, in part, because it’s still so raw. The pain still keeps me up at night. But I’m failing, too, because I’m just that confused. And it…

Emilia: “Mommy, Grandpa lives in Heaven now.” Me: “I know.” Emilia: “Does that mean that he’s an angel?” Me: “Yes, sweetie, I think that it does.” Emilia: “And do angels have wings?” Me: “I think so.” Emilia: “Does that mean that they’re fairies?” Me: “Um… no. Fairies are different.” Emilia: “But fairies have wings.” Me:…

We spent the weekend going to country fairs. We spent the weekend on Ferris Wheels and watching tractor pulls and eating cotton candy and ice cream. It was good. My heart still aches, and I still struggle, daily – hourly – with the challenge of coping with the emotions surrounding my father’s death. I still…

I think that I might be having an existential breakdown. That, or I’m just exhausted and depressed after a month of dealing with the aftermath of my father’s death. Or both. I think both. The death of my father rattled me in a way that I could never have expected. I knew, of course, that…
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