Since Mother’s death, I’ve been mothering Dad the way I’ve always wanted to be mothered. I learned to be a mother by caring for my younger siblings and newborn cousins in the cult into which I was born, until I partly grew-up and had four children of my own.
I was never a child.
…
He’s always been a man’s man, working among men, as a field hand, mechanic, and football, basketball, and baseball coach. My femininity is something Dad can’t forgive, but I hang onto it anyway.
Losing a Parent in Your 20s, What I Wish I’d Known.
From diagnosis to death, my dad’s journey was a callously swift nine months. A strange lump in his thigh turned out to be osteosarcoma, which then...
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