Peter Workman

A Year, 2 Days, But Who’s Counting: Remembering my Dad, Peter Workman

I was going to write something about my dad as the one year mark of his death approached.   And then I was going to write on the actual anniversary itself.  But I didn’t.  The pressure, I guess.  I don’t go out to dinner on Valentine’s Day with my husband either.  The expectations, right?  Who needs that?  And really, what to say?  I miss him?  He was pretty amazing in so many ways?  Yes, it’s true. So a couple of days before the anniversary of his death (sidebar: I am not a fan of the word “passing”.  I know it brings …

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The Last Thanksgiving with Dad

Last year at this time, we found ourselves part of one of those clubs that no one wants to join. This club could have been titled something like, “The Coalition of Families with a Really Sick Person, Who Don’t Know Whether or Not to Plan a Big Thanksgiving Because No One Knows How He/She Will be Feeling.” See? I told you. Awful club. Awful Name. The acronym is worse. My Dad had been diagnosed with brain cancer two months prior, finished emergency surgery, bounced back enough to read the paper, enjoy a few nights out with close friends and family, …

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The First Father’s Day Without My Dad

Bear with me — I promise, there are recipes at the end of the tunnel. When someone in your life dies, you embark upon the well-worn path of a year of “firsts”. People who’ve gotten there before you, who’ve lost someone central to their lives, will tell you about what it’s like to maneuver through that initial 12 months of “this is the first year that ______ hasn’t been at ___________.” Our firsts began before even dad died, during the half a year between diagnosis and the end.  There was the first time he wasn’t at Thanksgiving, his favorite holiday of …

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Today I Feel Like Talking About My Dad

My dad died Sunday.  The words don’t look right sitting on the page, they don’t feel like they belong to me, they must have been written by someone else, someone with a dead father. He was sick for 6 months.  A long time.  No, a short time.  Kind of a lifetime.  It was brain cancer, and the kind where from the beginning you know what the end of the story will be, you just don’t know how many pages the book has or what happens in the chapters leading up to the end. My dad was an amazing man.  I …

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