3 Years




The social media version:

“A new burger place in Park Slope— pretty good but girls still love Black Tap better. I love the exposed brick and VW van counter.”

The reality:

We were supposed to go to burgers last night to remember Dad on the 3rd anniversary of his death. I was very sick this weekend. Leah had a fever of 105— I’m gonna day that again— 105 and Lucy was being picked up by her clown father. No one was ok. We somehow made it out of the house today but we could hardly talk about Dad/Grandpa. Hannah regrets that she doesn’t remember much. Leah is deeply grieving a very special connection they had. She cries silently. I am physically wasted with a chest cold, anxious about how Lucy is doing at her dad’s house and too broken to help anyone. Our world went dark three years ago and the light hasn’t come back on. 



The social media version:

I can’t even write it because it’s not in my nature to sound so fake. 

The reality: 

Her clown father took her to a party for the girls he now lives with (they turned six). There were cupcakes in the car. She was returned home without a cupcake (WHY COULDNT YOU HAVE GIVEN HER A CUPCAKE ON THE WAY HOME?!?! Would it have been that hard?!) and crumpled into tears as soon as she was inside. She wanted a party cupcake so badly she could barely sleep. Woke up at 5 am asking for blue cupcakes. So we made cupcakes and it looks all cute and fun...minus the hand dipped in cocoa powder, stick of butter squished in between fingers, cup of water dumped on the couch, etc. Because I have nothing better to do than spend hours on a very early morning making cupcakes because someone’s horrible father wouldn’t give her one. Fun fact: she wouldn’t eat them. 

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