“Do You Think Wal-Mart Would Have Toothpaste?”

Learning to love my mom in a time of grief.

My dad died about six weeks ago, which is something I still probably have not fully processed although I am apparently going to happy hour with his financial advisors tomorrow night in New York City — come through if around, fam! — but my current situation is that I live in Fort Worth, which is in North Texas, and my mom, who is now a widow and is also the far-right face in that above photo (and pretty far-left in many other ways), is in NYC. Door-to-door, I think we are 1,954 miles apart. (It’s shorter “as the crow flies.”) Her current lease is up in March/April. We have some discussions to do, ya know? For now, I fly up there maybe every three-four weeks. October might be a total miss, although I am considering going for the Knicks home opener. CHARGE THOSE FLOOR SEATS TO THE ESTATE, BABY! I jest.

My mom is a complicated dance of a person, now 81 and somewhat lacking in mobility, but obviously a force in my life and currently the only parent I have left. I am unclear sometimes exactly what the point of this post will be, but let me try. I’ll start with the title.

Years ago, we went to a funeral in Pittsburgh. We were staying across the street from a Wal-Mart. My mom needed toothpaste and asked me, “Do you think Wal-Mart has toothpaste?”…