He’s My Daddy and I’ll Talk About Him if I Wanna

I pissed off the internet for daring to talk about my dad.

Me and Dad on vacation circa 1988

This year will mark 14 years since my dad died. The passing of time has been strange, as it’s a bit oxymoronic. I’m not as sad as I was when he initially died, yet I don’t miss him any less. I’ve grown into my own in his absence, and that is bittersweet.

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Bernie’s Daughter

Writer, mother, and daughter of a famous dead guy. Still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up, but I hear growing up is overrated.