When we were driving to the restaurant, my sister started to recount how she would listen to my dad from her room as he “trolled” (as my brother called it) telemarketers and surveyors by asking them a series of questions. “Who is Calvin?” “Am I Calvin?” “I don’t know, am I?” “How do you know my name?” “So how many people have you called today?” “Where do you live?” “What’s 1+1?” And we couldn’t stop laughing at this memory that had brought him back to life again — even if it were just for a bit.
My mom tried setting up my sister with her friend’s son.
During dinner, my siblings and I and the son and his sister were all texting while both our moms talked.
It was like some movie.
I went to where my father’s urn sits for the first time; I wasn’t able to go a month ago when my family brought him to Los Angeles - and I saw his view from on top of the hill, a view that looked out at a beautiful city he had never fully explored.
And then I thought. He left it for me to explore. And he’s watching over me.
Saw a kid hide behind a tree on campus and leap on his dad. Looked like it came straight out of the movies.