Life, man. Like the title says, I really need to write more.

For the last four years, I’ve been attending the disintegration of my extended family. My immediate family (wife and kids) are great, you could even say we thrived during Covid.

But since then, I’ve lost my mother-in-law from my previous marriage. (I’m a widower) She had been a mother-figure and dear friend since my first wife’s death. I carried out her wishes and delivered her advanced directive to the nurses, joked with her in the hospital, and then held her hand while she died. She had grace, she was a character. My life is so much richer for having known her. I miss her every day.

I lost my dad. I don’t think he was very happy with me, but he didn’t appreciate the shit sandwich I was dealt; his dementia had pushed my brother out of the family and drove my mother to refuse to let him return from the skilled nursing facility. I was forced to take over. He was resentful of it. He died in assisted living.

My brother has cancer. I haven’t lost him yet and, although the cancer he has is horrible, it seems to be responding well to chemo and radiation at the moment.

My mom. My mom, the center of all this drama, is determined to be miserable and make all of our lives miserable.

I really need to write more.