Lit Ledger: Receipts for the Dead

After Dad died, I kept his ledger lit. Chasing closure with every transaction—proof, apology, a fucked up vigil, one last try for trust from the dead.

2018: the Art of Looking Away

New-gf glow and sun-soaked selfies hid Dad’s first subtle slide. I ignored my gut, but Ch. 19 won’t let me look away from the skid marks I pretended not to see.

Protecting Dad’s Feelings Cost Me My Own

I thought protecting Dad’s feelings was right. It wasn’t. It was quiet self-abandonment. If you tiptoe around someone’s feelings long enough, you lose your own.

I’ll Share, Probably: Smells like ’99

Mom found Dad’s old glove and sent me a picture. Cue memory flood, guilt spiral, and eventual semi-enlightenment. I might even let Libby have it. That’s growth, right?