April 19th

My grandpa had a tattoo.

a reasonable facsimile

 of his own middle name. Sounds like indigestion, he said. Your name? I asked. It's the name of someone I'll always love, he said.
He died 17 years ago today in the Oklahoma City bombing. We waited too long to hear news of him, with a rain of dust and rubble and tiny shards of glass falling silently on our hopes.
I will not make the trip to lay flowers on his chair, for I have been there many times, and today I am busy in loving my living ones. But I'll proudly wear my Sharpie tattoo, and tell as many of his awful cornball jokes as I can remember.

and also it's the feast day of St Alfege of Youtube.