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I nod slowly, chewing. I think I can understand that. "Thanks," I say, and he nods, and sips his coffee.
"One more thing," he says, getting my attention from my food. "What you're feeling in the wake of Neil...It is grief. Some are going to tell you you can't grieve for someone who's still alive, but they're wrong. I know you aren't the kind to suppress your feelings, but I want to be sure you understand, it is okay to feel the way you do. Don't try to avoid it, don't cling to it, just feel it. Don't simply wait for it to pass, either. It's a process, it's natural and healthy; the mind and spirit have taken a blow. They need healing, as much as the body, and some of that just has to happen in its own time."
I find it difficult to swallow around the sudden knot in my throat, but it isn't grief that's choking me. I set down my utensils, get up from the table, and walk around behind my dad's chair, to fold my arms around his neck and set my chin on his shoulder, crouching awkwardly to do so. He pats my linked arms, and I kiss his cheek again.
"You are the best dad," I tell him softly, and he chuckles.
"Flattery," he tells me, "will not get you out of doing the dishes."
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