My Dad Died Yesterday

RIP Alfred Bauer, 1940 to 2025.

Obviously this is a harder one to write, so let me put a few ground rules upfront. I am not going to come on here and talk about, say, “every moment counts” and “hug your loved ones” and all that. I do believe most people understand those things, assuming they’ve felt love or known elements of a solid family or friends. I’m also not gonna do the whole “dad as best friend” thing, because while I do think that’s cool and I’ve known maybe six functional guys that fall in the “I used my dad as my best man” boat, it’s also not my particular bag. I will try to avoid being generic, but I could potentially fall into that. I think that’s enough ground rules. Let's go.

Backstory

My dad was older (85 this past April). He had me when he was 40. My mom, who is still alive and sleeping in the next room as I write this, is 81. They live in NYC. I believe each one of them, independently, has lived here since 1967. I live in Texas. I grew up in NYC, and I lived there for three or so years as an adult (late 20s), but I’ve mostly been in Texas, DC, and (briefly) Minnesota otherwise. My parents got married on April 7, 1973; in fact, here’s a New York Times wedding announcement. They started dating in the summer of 1971, in a nice little NYC bougie way: they met at a Hamptons summer share. More on that in a second…