This is not going to be a sad story, I promise. But it does start out with the process of going through my parents’ condo after their passing.
Growing up in rural Massachusetts, Judaism held a much different context in my life than it does now. Until college, I did Judaism, mimicking the motions of being a "good Jew." I didn't combine milk and meat in my house because my father told me not to.
Given that Yom Kippur is the holiest day on the Jewish calendar, it makes sense that it can, and should, be joyful.