I was eating popcorn when I received the call that my mom had died. My wife and one year old daughter were in the car with me. I parked the car, blocking the entrance to a residential building, and cried with childlike recklessness. When the security guard to that house came to shoo us away, he saw a grown man crying in front of his family and decided to let us be. I dropped the bag of buttered popcorn. Now, many months afterwards, every time I try to eat buttered popcorn, I remember the day my mom died and I lose my appetite.
The day my mom was buried, however, a friend of mine told me some fascinating stories about his dad. I’m going to tell you three of those stories. Continue reading My Mum, Popcorn, And My Best Friend’s Dad