My dog Curly was the most beautiful golden retriever to ever exist. He had to be put to sleep six years ago, and it broke my heart in a way I thought it could never be broken again. I still miss him quite a bit, but it comforts me when he appears in my dreams. … More What Dreams May Come

Today is my dad’s birthday. He would have been 65. If he were here, and if he were not battling cancer, he would be making several stupid jokes about how he’s officially a senior citizen. We would be down the shore for some festival and beach activity, and probably force him to go to my … More July 24

It’s pretty safe to say that I’ve entered “Angry Stage.” I’m angry at everyone and everything, I have every right to be angry, and I feel sorry for anyone who is going to feel the wrath of that anger in the very near future. One target of this dangerous emotion is the hospital. Their ditzy representatives … More Angry Letter

It’s easy to forget that I’m not the only person in the world who lost Jim McNaboe. Although my particular pain is unique–no one else in this situation lost her dad to a mysterious form of cancer when she was 22 years old, 15 days after she graduated from college, four years after her mom started battling … More Other People’s Pain

Yesterday I went into my dad’s office at our house to look for a mousepad for my new desk at my new job. It was the second time I’ve gone in there since he died, and upon walking in I remembered why after the first time I swore to myself I would avoid going in … More His Stuff