This is what happens when you are sitting at your father’s bedside instead of trick-or-treating on Halloween. Don’t get me wrong, the fifth floor of St. Joseph’s Hospital in Atlanta was exactly where I needed to be last week and when my dad hugged me hard and told me how much he appreciated that I was there, I was pretty sure that was the nicest thing he has ever said to me. You see, my dad is not a hugger. And he’s not an “I love you” kind of guy. In fact, I’m fairly certain I have never heard him say it. So, these words? They were hard for him to say. But he said them.
But still, I missed Halloween. I missed getting them ready. I missed taking them outside for an obligatory pretend-you-like-each-other picture. I missed taking them door-to-door. I missed watching them load up on candy and chocolate. I missed it all. There are – allegedly – some pictures of my children dressed as Lady Gaga, Harry Potter, and Spongebob Squarepants. But I haven’t seen them.
So, I did what any other mommy would do.
I stole all of their Wunderbars and Twix and Reese’s (pieces AND cups)
and then I put on Emily’s costume.