My family is devastated. My stepdad, Jerry, passed away on Wednesday. It doesn’t feel real. The weight of it hasn’t fully settled, but it’s coming. I still can’t believe I’m writing this- we thought Jerry would be here forever.

My parents found themselves unexpectedly busy not too long ago and I was drafted into dog duty. It was time to take Eliza on a walk, so off we went down the long drive behind their neighborhood. I hadn’t been back there in years! Somewhere between the first few steps and the bridge at the end, the past came rushing back. 

My dad died fifteen years ago today. I’d been batting around writing something formal to mark the occasion, but trying to compress his life into something tidy would require several volumes, a legal team, and a slew of affidavits to verify the most unbelievable parts. Dad was a story, or a series of them; layered, contradictory, and enormous. I’m not the raconteur that he was, but I’ll give it a shot with one of my favorite memories.