Patton Oswalt is a stand up comedian who has also found his footing in both film and Television. Even though he had great turns on both VEEP and The Goldbergs (and his amazing, improvised Star Wars filibuster on Parks & Recreation), I will always think of him as Remy from Ratatouille. Patton was married to true crime writer Michelle McNamara and they were parents to seven-year old Alice. In April of this god-awful year, Michelle died suddenly in her sleep. Patton has been trying to deal with the loss ever since. In August, he wrote a touching essay on grief, which is well worth reading. He returned to standup, eventually being able to address his wife’s death in his comedy, something he told Stephen Colbert helped him cope. Another way he copes is by being a kick a—dad to little Alice. Patton wrote an essay for GQ discussing being a widowed father and how he plans to move forward. You can read the whole thing here. Below is an excerpt.

Five months and ten days ago, as I write this, I became a single father.

This is my first time being a single father. I’ve missed forms for school. I’ve forgotten to stock the fridge with food she likes. I’ve run out of socks for her. I’ve run out of socks for me. It sucked and it was a hassle every time, but the world kept turning. I said, “Whoops, my bad,” and fixed it and kept stumbling forward. Now I know where to buy the socks she likes. I asked two parents at her school to help me with forms and scheduling. I’m getting good at sniffing out weekend activities and scheduling playdates and navigating time and the city to get her and myself where we need to go every day. I work a creative job, but I live a practical life. If I can persuade a comedy club full of indifferent drunks to like me, I can have my daughter ready for soccer on a Saturday morning.

I’m going to keep going forward, looking stupid and clumsy and inexperienced at first, then eventually getting it, until the next jolt comes, and the next floor drops out from under me, until there are no more floors.

I don’t know what kind of single father you are, if you are one or ever will be one. If you’re widowed or divorced, adopter or elder sibling. If you’re feeling any fear or self-doubt, reassure yourself with the fact that I’m doing this. Me. Spend an hour with me sometime. I can’t drive stick. I can’t scramble an egg. I can’t ice-skate. But I’m doing this. Being a father. I’m in charge of another human being. So you can do this. I promise.

And to show you I’m on the up-and-up? I’ve also been lying to you. Because none of this is for you.

It is for Alice.

I’m moving forward—clumsily, stupidly, blindly—because of the kind of person Alice is. She’s got so much of Michelle in her. And Michelle was living her life moving forward. And she took me forward with her. Just like I know Alice will. So I’m going to keep moving forward. So I can be there with you if you need me, Alice.

Because I’ll need you.

I can do it. I can do it. I can do it. Because of you, Alice.

[From GQ]

I encourage you to read the whole essay if you are any kind of parent at all. I am not a single parent and I, thank everything, am not a widow but I constantly feel like I “can’t do it” when it comes to parenting. No matter what has happened, if it went wrong, I am sure I was the cause and that I have irrevocably damaged my children as a result. Reading this made me feel a little better to know that others think they’ve failed in their parental role as well. In another part of his essay, Patton discussed the ways in which he and Michelle’s personality traits worked together to form a parenting machine. Again, he eloquently demonstrates how their relationship operated and it is both beautiful and tragic to understand how incomplete he feels currently.

I have not felt true grief yet. I’d love it if I never had to but I will, I know. I hope I remember to reread Patton’s essays when I do because he has put very complex emotions into relatable concepts. I know he’s working through a process by writing about it and addressing it in public and that he is doing so for himself but hopefully he also understands how much he is doing for others. In his Facebook essay, he says of all the people who offered him support, “They will show up for you, physically and emotionally, in ways which make you take careful note, and say to yourself, “Make sure to try to do that for someone else someday.”” I think, in many ways, he already has.

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