Aging & Grief

I Miss His Voice The Most

Losing an admired, public parent who privately battled with mental health

One month ago I lost my Dad. The world doesn’t feel right and the grief pangs are still dripping raw. Though I’m almost fifty, I’ll always be his little girl. Ours was a deep connection. Cut from the same clichéd “tortured artist” cloth, Dad and I shared similar talents and fought comparable beasts of mental health. But Dad’s social anxiety — far more potent than my own — was largely unrecognized by anyone outside…