One morning, just out of my teens, in the back bedroom of a two-bedroom duplex in South Carolina’s “Low Country,” I found my dad, dead, on the floor by his bed. To this date there are but two things I don’t like to talk about, often, my own health, and the death of my father.(…)
Despite the sheer awesomeness of all of the Family-Friendly events that we’ve attended with SF Dads Group, lately, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t super stoked to be attending this one, sans kids!
I want to tell you about a moment that happened a few weeks back. When the hotel’s elevator doors suck shut and the telltale bell-tone sounds its ascent, I finally feel that solitude that I’ve come to know, so often, back home. It’s a strange sort of alone. An isolation I can sometimes find solace(…)