When I was a little kid, I was terrified of blowing out birthday candles. Loved the idea of it. Petrified of the execution - the attention to be specific. This is something I never really thought much about until I was watching old home movies a few weeks ago and saw 3 year old me hiding behind her hands while everyone sang happy birthday. She was doing the same things I do now, 20 years later, whenever I'm anxious; it was like looking in a mirror. And watching that, a small

3 weeks ago I became an official, card holding member of the dead dad club. The most hilariously depressing - or depressingly hilarious, depending on the day - club around. The whole thing has felt so unbelievably believable. A swarm of contradictory emotions continues to overwhelm me because the inevitable - that I never truly accepted would come true - is now my reality. And every morning since I’ve had to remind myself of that. Like a broken record of your least favorite s