The World According to Chuck

New column:

Six years. It has been six years now, six years since the diagnosis, six years since the chemotherapy, six years since the last Father’s Day I called my dad. A lot happens in six years.

Grief changes. Loss lessens. Life goes on, and what once seemed shattering and unnatural has faded into some sort of order. Your kids graduate, they leave, they return. Your friends get grayer, your memory gets weird, your jeans get bigger. Your father dies. Fathers do.