Post by Ben
My dog died this week. I was at lunch with a friend and my dad left an unexpectedly short voicemail. After listening, it didn’t matter where I was, all I was worried about was about how dis-attached he sounded. And then I called him back and he answered. I had the phone to my ear and my feet were gnawing at the roots of an old tree growing triumphantly through the concrete. And he told me Zoe was dead and I heard him stutter—this is from the most emotionally calm man I know. He paused long enough for me to realize he was tearing up. I didn’t know what to do; my mother took the phone from him and from there I knew I couldn’t talk anymore. She would reference a memory to make me cry.