‘A very happy day’
The community celebrates Israel as it marches up Fifth Avenue
When I think about my dad at home through all the years of my growing up, I think of him as alone. And when I think about my mom through those same years, I think of her as lonely.
My dad, who was living with bipolar disorder, spent months at a time inside our house, often in his bed, almost always alone. My mom went to work every day, and my brother and I went to school. When we got home, there he was, on the couch, watching television.
