weird.

i was talking to my assistant today about a former student of ours who visited yesterday and told me that his dad has ALS and is dying.  i said, “that’s about how old i was when my dad got sick and died.  it’s tough.”

then we sort of moved on and did whatever else we needed to do…but just now, i was sitting here, picturing that young, young boy, just twenty-two years old and thinking that that was me, twenty-odd years ago.

wow.

no wonder losing my dad fucked me up so much–i was just a baby.  i shouldn’t be so hard on myself that it’s still hard.  it’s always hard, and every death brings back all the others.