I am ten and there is a barbecue at our house and Dad complains of a headache which is weird because he never complains and goes up to his bedroom to rest which is weird because it’s the middle of the afternoon but he is joking with his friends and he looks happy.

The next morning Mom and Nanna are sitting at the kitchen table that Dad built with his own two hands and they are holding hands which is weird because they never do that and they are crying and I know before Mom says anything he is gone.

*

Dad makes eggs benedict with ham and homemade hollandaise for dinner which is delicious and we have seconds and then I realize there is none left and that he probably wanted seconds too but didn’t say anything.

My little brother and I have a “tiff” as Mom calls it because we need to clean up our toys before playing outside and he does it so slowly when we could just be done already and she sits us down on the playroom floor her clear blue eyes looking straight through us and says “you’ll never have another brother” and she leaves and then we quietly pick up our toys and go outside to play together because actually we like being brothers.

*

Every night he says “Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite, and if they do, squeeze them tight and save the juice for another night” which is kind of gross but also the perfect thing to say to us as we fall asleep.

I do not have any children but if I ever do I will tuck them in the same way.

*

My little brother and I get cross-country skis for Christmas and Dad waxes them until they are slick and we bundle up and strap into them because the powder is fresh and a frozen lake in New England is heaven but we are small and get tired quickly and he probably wants to keep going but he turns around and we head inside to warmth.

At the Christmas tree farm Mom wedges herself under a blue spruce and is struggling with Dad’s handsaw because it is heavy and she is tiny but she is also strong and my little brother and I steady the tree with mittened hands until she cuts all the way through the trunk and when she stands up she has blue spruce needles stuck in her hair near her gold hoop earrings and she yells “Boys, help!” and bends down so my brother can untangle her and then she laughs.

*

Four of us.

Three of us.

*

I am sitting on the kitchen island and Dad is behind me his arms around me his beard tickling the back of my neck and he is holding my right hand as he trims my fingernails and he is smoking a cigarette and its ash falls on my leg and I scream not because it hurts but because I am surprised and it is the only time I remember he ever made me cry and he didn’t even mean to.

I am twentysomething and meet with a neurologist to talk about brain aneurysms because that is how he died and I don’t trust the internet for something like this no way and a doctor with a kind face tells me that it’s all about risk factors like smoking and also I am young and healthy so I should not worry and I feel better but then again I never thought of Dad as a risky person.

*

I misjudge an ocean wave and my boogie-board bites sharply into the seafloor and I flip and spin salt water in my nose and ears and I land face-down in cold sand and don’t know where I am but then Dad’s strong arms are around me drawing me in cradling me closely like a baby even though I am eight.

Mom watches me like a hawk at the ocean and tells me to be careful and not go out too far and I listen to her even though I am a good swimmer and the waves are not that big.

*

Dad doesn’t play sports and he can’t even shoot a basketball right but when my brother and I play at the hoop he built for us in the driveway he walks over wearing dusty blue jeans and a white t-shirt and he crosses his arms and watches us and smiles.

At basketball games in high school Mom cups her mouth and shouts “Bravo!” when I score because she’s a dance teacher and watching me play is like a performance to her and I am not even embarrassed because you only have one mom and also how cool is it that she does that?

*

Dad teaches me multiplication tables because he’s an engineer and really smart but I am not that good at math and sometimes need to use my fingers to count and I try to hide them under the table and he does not say anything even though I’m sure he notices.

I graduate law school and Mom is proud and hugs me tightly and I think about Dad and hope he is proud of me too and I am also a little smug because it turns out I didn’t need to learn math that well after all.

*

I yell “I hate you” at Mom which I have never done before because she didn’t let me do I have no idea what and I can tell it lands hard which I guess was the idea and I run to my room and slam the door and Dad knocks a while later and asks gently “Don’t you think you were a little tough on your Mom?” and my anger melts away because of course I don’t hate her she is half of my universe.

Mom learns to do all the stuff that Dad did like filing taxes and trimming fingernails and she also makes tuna sandwiches and folds laundry and really does everything except one time without making eye contact she hands me a book called What’s Happening to My Body and says I can ask her if I have any questions but then she just walks out of my room and never raises it again though if I’m honest the book has drawings and it actually pretty good especially the chapter about girls and needless to say I don’t ask her any questions because who wants to talk to their mom about sex?

*

We go with Dad to drive the babysitter home after dinner and even though it’s not far away we both fall asleep on the way back and so he carries us one-by-one to our bedrooms and tucks us in and whispers the bedbugs thing though I am not actually asleep I just like it when he lifts me up softly and carries me to my room and he probably knows I’m just pretending but he doesn’t mind.

I am fortysomething and This American Life comes on in the car and Ira Glass tells a story about his father teaching him to shave his arms wrapped around him kind of like when Dad used to cut my fingernails on the kitchen island and I am gripping the steering wheel with one hand and wiping tears away with the other because I realize that no one ever taught me how to shave but maybe it’s good that I still miss him and also I do kind of a good job shaving.