seven things

She asked me what I know about him.

“What do you know about your dad?”

My dad. My. Dad. I never say those two words together.

“I know his name and that we look alike. I know his parents were alcoholics. I know they owned a chain of funeral homes. I know he moved to Madison for a while, but came back to Green Bay. I know he was addicted to heroin and I know how he died.”

I paused.

“That’s all.”

this is the part in my new blog where the title of the blog post is longer than the actual blog post

I need to forgive my father.

To that end, I called and hung up on my grandmother today.

This will be an ongoing story.