kids
Based on the crying and genuine heartbreak from my 5-y/o, you would be forgiven for thinking I violated the Geneva Conventions. Nope. I gave the baby raspberries to make her giggle. Big sis never saw me do it anyone else. She thought this whole time it was just a special thing between us.
Finished reading: Project Hail Mary: A Novel by Andy Weir 📚
First book I read with my kid. He listened to the audiobook this week while I read it on Kindle. A nice experience to bond over the rich story.
Saint Patrick’s Day parade in Dublin Ohio.
And later we were part of the world’s largest “human shamrock”
Last year, I took this snapshot of Paco while we waited in line for Santa at a farm that does holiday events. It was a moment of peaceful calm for my otherwise very energetic boy.
This year, my wife took the kids to the same event last minute. My oldest had his siblings recreate it for me.
Out of the blue, my soon to be five year old (next month) started sobbing about Paco. Man does it hurt that I cannot take this hurt away.
Paco’s been gone nine months, today. Miss that kiddo so, so very much.
Paco loved Thanksgiving. And while we have so much for which to be grateful, there is also a giant hole of love without him. Last year he won that plunger on Thanksgiving and every day after it became his sword, magic wand, scepter.
Today, I’ll have it with me.
My heart hurts today.
🎥 Michael Jackson’s Thriller (1983) - ★★★★★
Introduced the big kid to the Smooth Criminal yesterday, so naturally he asked to see more classic MJ today. Pulled up the GOAT.
Ladies and gentlemen… TEN YEARS
Honestly, I am having difficulty believing it but the math checks out.
Happy birthday, Paco. You are missed, and so loved.
We’re making this your day, kiddo.
IDK how she knows about them, buy my 4yo has me writing the music notes to the songs she’s singing a cappella. “Like, wait—music notes?”
“Yes,” she said, emphatically.
Starting a hard week. Today is five months since Paco died, and Thursday is his 8th birthday.
I miss that guy so much.
Somehow my 4yo or 6yo figured out how to order “The Three Little Pigs” on Audiobook via Alexa.
Stumbled on my journal from 2017 while cleaning. It has footprints from the hospital when Paco was born. I wept for god knows how long.
Oh how do I miss that kid. 💔
Just paid the final hospital bill for Paco. It still doesn’t feel real that’s gone, but looking at the pre-insurance costs underscores just how sick he got without warning.
I miss him every moment of every day.
So if an appendectomy wasn’t enough, the big kid got stung by a wasp after watching Bad Guys 2 today—just as he was getting into the car.
🎥 The only problem with this otherwise delightful NYT cooking & Kenji Lopez-Alt video on cooking hamburgers is that my kids talked me into making hamburgers for dinner while we watched it. Admittedly, this isn’t actually a problem.
Three months of grief, and my birthday.
Yesterday. The fifth.
Three months have passed since Paco died. Since then, I have been somewhat on auto pilot. There have been moments of sobriety, moments of clarity that come as quickly as they disappear. But on balance, these last three months have felt like an eternity. And yet it feels as raw as last week. This week especially, the weight of his absence has felt extraordinary.
Today. The sixth.
My 45th birthday. Paco would have been the most excited. More than my wife. More than the other kids. More than all of them combined. He loved to make birthdays the best for whomever. Paco would have fought his siblings to wake me so that he could be the first to wish me happy birthday. He would have insisted on getting me a giant birthday balloon from Dollar Tree, and would not let the sun set without surprising me with a cake. “Dad, stay in your bedroom while we make a surprise cake for you.”
Lucia and the kids did well to make the day feel joyous as they could. We ordered breakfast burritos for delivery. I took the kids to the movies—a reshowing of The Bad Guys (2018)—and got some tacos for lunch. Before dinner, we went to do indoor mini golf. And yeah, they got balloons. Four of them. He is not forgotten.
My cake says “145” because of a running joke. My dad always added a hundred to his age when I was a kid. I started doing it to my kids. They all know the truth by now, but it’s the still the running gag in the family about “dad’s old.”
Big kid one his pinewood derby tonight. Undefeated. After these last two months, he needed something to be excited about it.
