Like many people across the world, 2020 gave me the business. For much of the year, I kept myself grounded in the fact that nothing significant had harmed my family. We were OK. Until we weren't. Just one month after celebrating my dad's 80th birthday, a small portion of masked-up family members gathered in a cemetery to bid him our final goodbyes. Then I was hit with a montage of all the things my dad wouldn't be around for -- no more birthdays, Christmas, phone calls, trips to the hardware store, or special moments, but most of all he wouldn't be here for Father's Day . I learned everything I need to know about "Hallmark holidays" on my first Mother's Day without my mother. It was 2002 and I acted as if the day didn't exist. Even hearing the word "mom" cracked me open emotionally. I had to avoid being out in the world that day, because someone would undoubtedly, yet unintentionally remind me that I was motherless. That following month I sought to honor my dad on Father's Day, but...