Written By: Lauren Howard
I recently caught up on the phone with my dad's very best friend.
They were inseparable from age seven through medical school and beyond.
He is maybe one of the few people in this world who knew my dad better than I did.
Mort was a constant figure in my childhood, but we didn't see them very often. They were there for all major family events, a few vacations, and were always a stop on a rare trip to Philly.
My dad was the third wheel to Mort and his wife, Joy, for twenty years before he met my mom.
We caught up about all of the things after I assured them that nothing was wrong. That's kind of a thing you have to do when you call octogenarians out of the blue. They just assume someone died or is in the process of it.
I gave then a minute to calm their blood pressures because this time, it's nothing bad.
I asked him if he wanted to be the second person in the world to read this book that I wrote about our mutual best friend.
I cried when I asked. I think he cried a little when he accepted.
This thing that has lived inside my heart for so long and that I was secretly embarrassed about because it felt so wildly presumptuous to have even written . . . has taken on a life of its own.
Now that I'm over the initial bashfulness, sharing the whole process here feels like the only reasonable thing to do because it's really what I've done with everything for almost three years.
So, buckle up, I guess. You're coming along for this whether you like it or not.
Founder & CEO at elletwo
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