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What they don’t tell you about losing a parent is that it’s a lot of work. I cried a bit, but mostly I felt like it wasn’t really happening, like I was on the world’s cruelest prank show and somebody was about to tell me it was all a hoax. I don’t remember exactly how I reacted, but I recall pure numbness. No warning, no slow burn - he was gone, just like that. He suffered a heart attack behind the wheel, crashed, and didn’t make it out. The short story: My dad had been in a car accident. That’s when my mom sat me down and told me what had happened. My unsuspecting girlfriend thought she was helping to plan a nice impromptu evening with my family (hence the takeout suggestion), but that wasn’t quite the case. I was confused, but also pleasantly surprised. She came back inside, my mom and little sister following behind. She went down to let them in I figured it was the delivery person. A while later, my girlfriend picked up a call and told me we had visitors downstairs. I was too tired to even think about making dinner. She suggested we order take-out, which I was more than happy to do. I walked into my apartment, hugged my girlfriend, and attempted to de-stress. As it turned out, he had been for a few hours already. I just walked out and hurried to my train.Īs I sat in my seat, staring out the window, I had no idea that my dad was dead. On that particular day, I remember wanting to get home so badly I didn’t even change out of my work clothes at the end of my shift.
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Mostly, I fantasized about quitting and going home. I tolerated that shit for almost three years.Įvery day, I stood at the front podium in a cheap suit, leaning occasionally (which wasn't allowed) and checking my phone when my manager wasn’t looking. It was the kind of place where most of the customers were rich, white Wall Street dudes who liked to remind you of how small you were, hurling insults about your life trajectory when you couldn't get them a table.
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My dad died on a September afternoon, while I was going through the motions of another boring lunch shift as the maître d' at a bougie hotel restaurant in the Financial District of New York City.
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