My father is sick. In the last year, his health has rapidly degenerated. Several days ago, I went to his small apartment that smelled of tobacco and stale urine to intervene. His feet swollen, I forced socks up his calves. I opened the laces of the only shoes that would fit and pushed his feet into them. I stood him up, had him lean into my chest as I worked a t-shirt over his arms and head, like a child. We then drove to the VA, where he was taken into care. This week, I also attended the wake of Offending Adam editor Cody Todd who we lost earlier this year, tragically and too early.