April 11th

I was sitting on the desk of a co worker- a few months earlier she had confided in me losing her mother when she was 14 to lung cancer- I swung my feet back and forth as I sat, “I just can’t imagine losing a parent.” She responded, “You can never imagine it and then you do and you just handle it.” She was so together, so smart, so mature, so with it… she had done it… if I had to, I would do it. I didn’t really let myself go there yet, I kept convincing myself it wouldn’t be me. I went back to my desk and the phone rang soon after, the call I’d been waiting for. It was cancer. I left work immediately, called Matt, headed to Concord Hospital. In the car I couldn’t focus, on anything. I tried some mellow, depressing, moody music, it didn’t help, I tried something update, poppy, dancey, I couldn’t handle that either. I chose to drive in silence instead. My thoughts swirling. What was going to happen now? he would be okay, he would fight this, people fight cancer all the time. I’m going to be optimistic, I’m going to be strong, we’re all going to handle this and get through it.

When I got there Dad wasn’t in his bed. He was downstairs getting a bone scan. I went down with my mom to get him. We were both speechless in the elevator. We stood in the cold hallway, leaning against the cool cement block wall waiting for him to be wheeled out.

I had envisioned myself arriving, seeing Dad in the bed, climbing in with him, hugging him hard and saying: “You’re gonna fight this, alright?” Instead I wheeled him back to his room, sat, all of us staring, waiting. Dad started his death talk, “I’ve had a great life, I’ve done some wonderful things.” I wouldn’t let him continue, I couldn’t hear it yet. What he would later say is, “I’m having so much fun living though, I don’t want to stop.”

Co-Habitating

“Do I have any famous relatives?”

“Do you? How could this possibly be coming up?”

“I’m doing a MySpace survey.”

“Oh, okay. Do you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Yeah.”

“How do you spell Geometry?”

“G, E, O, M, E, T, R, Y.”

“Thanks”

“What was the weather like on my birthday?”

“ahhhh, I have no idea. We were at your house, right? I think it was fine, but I don’t really recall.”

“It wasn’t snowy or anything, was it?”

Shakes head no

unrecognizable mumbling

“What honey?”

“It was in that add, you weren’t paying attention.”

“Okay.”

“Am I moody?”

“Are you moody?”

“Yeah.”

“uhhh, I don’t know." Pause "A little bit. Yeah, I’d say you’re a little bit moody.”

“Good answer.”

“Good answer?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll take that.”

Now

Moving to NYC to do list and status:

Unpack: Done

Buy stuff: Done, only need Blinds for bedroom

Decorate: Done

Hang Pictures: Done

Open new Bank Account: Done

Open Joint Bank Account: TBD (to be done)

Explore Neighborhood: TBD

Find Favorites (restaurants, nail salons, hair place, pharmacy, etc): TBD

See old Friends: TBD (starts Friday with Abby!)

Have Visitors: TBD (First one is Jaimie this weekend!)

Find Job: TBD (had a couple of interviews though...)

Visit out of state and then come back and have this feel like home: TBD

My first week here I slept like a rock, I'd be manically unpacking and shopping during the day and then pass out at night, no thoughts to stir me awake, nothing to keep me up and anxious.

Into the second week I started to have restless nights, I'd lay down to sleep and just toss and turn and think about all the things to do, what we still had to buy, how much money had been spent, how fast April was going to fly by and would I find a job, that my Dad was dead. One night I wanted to get up, my typical sleeplessness activity, surf MySpace and write a blog full of emotion and darker thoughts and angst. But I didn't, it wasn't as easy. I had Matt sleeping next to me and I didn't want to wake him and have him worry, I would have to patter down a hall and into the living room, the computer wasn't on a desk at the foot of my bed anymore. So instead I sat up in bed, I let the thoughts swirl through my head, I almost wrote a full "blog" in my head, but I just sat, I let it work itself through without taking action. It helped, I lay back down minutes later and probably went to sleep soon after that.

Things are different here, its not the same life, I really am living this one though, sure having no job makes it different makes it seem vacation like, but many things are still the same and I'm adjusting to how they fit differently into this new chapter of life. I'm living in each moment, doing what I want in those moments, whether it be waking up depressed and just wanting to stare out the window, or waking up energized and wanting to get shit done. I'm doing what my body and mind want, taking the energy and using it in the moment. Right now I don't really have anything big to pin my thoughts out to look forward to, literally look forward to, I have these moments, this time to live in fully and enjoy and I'm making it work. No more in between times, no more just wait till we get to this date. I'm here, this is now.

A Week

How long is a week, really? You always hear people saying things like,

"This week is flying by!"

"I feel like this week has lasted forever!"

"Is this week over yet?"

"I've been one day ahead all week!"

And what makes them short, long, fast forwarded, put in slow mo? Sometimes having something in the middle of the week you're looking forward to makes it go by quickly for me. I usually have plans on Thursday nights, and some weeks the week will fly to Thursday. I also find that when I have a weekend of no plans, the week is all of a sudden over and I'm left to think, "hmm what am I going to do?" But then there will be average, basic, plain weeks that fly and crawl, sometimes at the same time. So is there any predicting if a week will be over before you know it?

I ask because I'm curious how this upcoming week will be. A week that ends in a drive to NYC where I'll be staying for more than a weekend visit.

I've been telling people, "This week is going to fly by." But what if it doesn't. What if I don't want it to. Can I stop it? I've been pretty bad at living in the moment lately, maybe this week I need to put in an effort to do that. Maybe because I'm so looking forward to Saturday, but so wanting to get in all I need to before I leave, time with friends, packing, breathing, the week will go at just the right speed and I'll be satisfied with all I've done and Saturday will get here just fast enough.

I guess I have to wait a week and see.

Dust

There's dust everywhere. Everything I move as I pack yields dust. My nose is running and I'm coughing and sneezing. Sick of the dust.

I want clean, I want new, I want to unpack and set up my things in new ways, in our new place. I want the boxes moved so I clean here too. My life is changing, things are happening, its time to clean the dust left behind, the 2 years of living here, what's been collecting under couches and behind bookshelves.

I've got the good stuff, its not dust. I've got memories, and images of what the apartment was like, how I lived in it, the good times spent it, everything it was for me and how it helped carry me through the last two years. I won't vacuum those up. That's why I'm ready, why I'm yearning to clean. Its the other stuff, the crumbs, the unused spaces, that can be swept up.

I'll want to clean the new place too, make sure as we unpack its our dust that will start to collect. To be swept again when we move on, which we will, but it will be together and we'll be different, but it will be good. So good. And I won't sneeze.

Moment

I haven't done a very good job of living in the moment lately. Something I was told this summer, from people, books, etc was to live each day to its fullest. Live in each moment, don't try to take anything too quickly or rush through how I was feeling, just live, in each moment.

I haven't been doing that lately. I was standing at the kitchen counter, putting my lunch together for work and thinking, "Is it Friday yet? Is this week over yet?" And then in the car, driving home, later in the day, I thought, "I haven't been doing a good job of living in the moment." I've got one date locked in my head, March 24th. Its when I move to NYC, its when I will start to slow down again and be moment to moment. Now I'm just Friday to Friday, or lease signing day to move in day.

Sure, I'm skipping over moments that matter, but I'm also slowing down and really living in moments that matter too. Like sitting at the bar at the Legal's in the Charles Sq. laughing with Sara and Ashley. Knowing I'll miss these moments when I'm 4 hours away, knowing I should enjoy this time, and I did, I fully lived it, forgot what time it was, forgot that Matt was driving to Somerville as I enjoyed it, forgot what I was looking forward to, for that moment.

Maybe because I know I'm flying through the day to day right now, its okay, maybe I am taking in what matters as I push through, my mind, eyes, body fixed on moving to NY to be with Matt, no end date in sight. Maybe I should focus on what this moment means, Matt's here now, who cares that we'll be together permanently in two weeks, I should spend this moment with him.

Marsh

We walked in on the frozen stream, each step risking the breaking ice, but caring little. My mind was focused somewhere far beyond the crackling ice, and then on the vast openness before me. My eyes were quickly drawn to the barren tree protruding from the marsh. It stood alone, a smaller tree next to it, a child to a parent. It stood so tall and bare in this vast open space. I turned, watching mom walk into the marsh, towards the center, her blue jacket standing out above the golden grasses that covered the swamp, the snow not yet deep enough to cover them. The gold grass fluttered in the wind as mom crossed the marsh. I followed.

I stood in the middle, moved by the open world around me, watching the movement of the grass, watching the stomping steps Mom took, I closed my eyes, my body spinning or maybe just my mind. I felt Dad, I wanted Dad, it doesn't matter which one it is or was, he was there. My eyes were drawn down to the gold, up to the blue empty sky, I looked for Dad. Where are you? The wind slowed down and passed me softly. I followed my Mom's steps, stomping where she had. Watching the wind move the tall pines surrounding the marsh, watching Mom through piney branches of a bare tree. I turned back to the large tree in the center, my eyes fixed again. Why was it standing out so strongly when moments early and in moments again I would be surrounded by larger and older trees?

Mom sat on a branch once out of the swamp. "The pain is too much sometimes." We both cry, her more visibly than me. "But it’s too cold to sit here anymore."

Swirling

I drive a little and then stop, taking the time to turn my head and look at the skyline to my left. The Empire State building stands out most for me, but I take it all in. Turning my eyes back to the traffic crossing the Whitestone Bridge to the tolls ahead. The sun bouncing off of cars around me, the snow shining icy in the light, the water, the cars, the skyline all swirling into my thoughts. The weekend. Seeing us sitting at dinner, seeing us walking out of apartments, already in agreement about what we'd seen, what we liked, what we didn't like. The traffic hardly even a bother as I sift through the thoughts.

I used to think, in the early parts of our relationship, will we really be able to keep finding things to talk about? Obviously we did, but it always baffled me. We always have/had something to talk about, we always keep each other entertained. I see us at dinner, sharing fondue, dipping pieces of food into a boiling pot and letting it cook, chatting as we wait, I don't even remember what about. Sharing sushi, talking about what we'll learn about each other when we live together, taken from Sex and the City- our secret single behaviors, and there isn't much we don't already know. How do we do it?

I think about moving, about what I'll bring, what I won't, packing up. I think about what I want the place to look like, what I've already fantasized it looking like in my head and trying to remind myself it won't be as good, maybe close. I inch further, realizing the back up is cars waiting to pay cash. Cash? Who pays cash at tolls anymore? I finally zip through and watch as the light changes, as the road changes from wide to the small tight compactness of the Merritt. The trees surrounding it bare and cold, the light sifting through them as it sets around my drive home.

Death Cab plays as my soundtrack, taking my thoughts to Dad, to death, to everything I've experienced and lived through, I'm sad, but then Mom calls and I'm not, I'm happy.

A friend at work told me about a time she was having a Reiki treatment done. She lay on the table, her mind blank except for this swirling image. After her treatment, she was speaking with the woman who'd done it and told her about the swirling image. The woman who had done her Reiki explained that she had seen the swirling, that her body had been giving that image off.

I wonder if mine is now.

An Exerpt...

Driving home with Matt the first weekend of February, listening to Death Cab, my Mom’s new obsession- I’m sure my Dad would have liked them. She’s taken on so much of who he was, what he enjoyed. I think of Dad listening to the lyrics piped forth into the car. “I will follow you into the dark.” “Love is watching someone die.” I’m not anxious anymore when I make the drive home, but inevitably I focus on Dad. Later that night, Mom shows us poems for her book. Talks about experiencing Dad inside of her, feeling as if he’s right behind her eyes, like she’s seeing things for both of them. How close to the edge she’s come feeling as if she’s living for two. I think, "I need to make sure to write this all down". We order take out dinner from the pizza place down the street. “I always hated Louie’s,” she says, “Now I think I might like it, and Dad isn’t here to appreciate it. He always wanted Louie’s and I would nix it. You know what else I’ve been doing that I always told Dad not to, listening to music really loudly in the morning when I get ready for work. I would always tell Dad to shut it off because it would take me out of my focus zone for getting ready, and every 8 months or so he would test me again. Now I do it every morning.” It makes sense to me, her doing all these things- taking on how Dad was, what Dad did. It’s a way of keeping him alive, a way of keeping him present in this world.

Grace

I walk to the platform, not caring that I just missed a train. I stand in front of an advertisement for diet prodcuts, not caring that I just had a liquid dinner, martinis instead of entrees. I put my headphones on and hit play on my IPod. A song too loud for my mood comes on, and a train pulls into the station. I sit down, scrolling through the playlist and see a song called, "Grace".

An eerie, yet beautifully melodic voice comes on, singing of love, of loss, of being on her "knees with only memories left to hold". Holy shit, I think, this is so it. "Turn my grief to Grace," She exclaims. I'm lost in her voice, her lyrics, how true they are to everything I'm going through, gone through. The play on words of grace and my Mom's name, Grace.

The train pulls into Porter station and climb out, selecting Grace again. I step onto the long escalator. One foot on the step above and let the lyrics pour into me. I'm lost in them, I'm lost in the movement of the escalator and the places the lyrics are taking my mind. Its the perfect combination of being and mind. I almost slide off of the top of the escalator, passing through the doors of the station and into the cold night. I walk with determination, hitting back once more on my IPod, passing once more into her voice, her story, her perfect connection to my experience. My steps are in line with her beat, my head in sync with her thoughts. "Its so fucking perfect," I think. My body connected to her voice, my steps almost outside of my body, but still connected to the rhythm.

Turn my grief to Grace.

Missing

I've been putting all my writing energy into a word document, instead of here. I'm writing a memoir, writing down the memories of my Dad's sickness and death. I'm focused, serious, into it. Its taking all my writing energy though, and I've been neglectful of all the other stuff in my head that wants to get written down. I don't want to post pieces of the memoir here, you already get pieces of it through my past and future entries, which is another reason I've been missing from here. But I've had a couple of things swimming in my head that keep coming up, so I'll post them as I procrastinate.

We Live In

A lot of inspirations come to me when I'm driving. This night was no different. I pulled up to a stop light and looked instinctively to my right. It was a car dealership, a man was sitting at his desk- facing the floor to ceiling windows. He had a focused look on his face, his mouth often moving as he read the words on the computer screen in front of him. There were two empty chairs in front of the desk, potential clients would someday sit in them. To the left of him was a chair with his jacket thrown over it, I pictured a busy day when all three chairs were used and his jacket was probably shoved under his desk rather than hung on a rack somewhere in the building. His tie was too tight and I wondered why it hadn't been loosened already, the work day was over. Or maybe there were clients about to walk through to the door to sign the agreement he was drafting. He looked to his left, at the paper copy of what he was typing I assumed. Writing it all out in long hand first, as I did with this entry, writing quickly at future stop lights so I could remember my thoughts at that moment, so I could accurately capture it here, so he could accurately write up the numbers that had been agreed upon days earlier at a quick stop in to browse that turned into a purchase, a "We'll come back later this week to sign."I wondered why he never realized I was watching him, the light was long and my eyes were locked. Too focused on the work in front of him, driven by the possibility of sale, his tight tie driving him to finish so he could pick the jacket up hours later, loosen the tie and head home. Coldplay's "Beautiful World" came on the radio and the light changed to green. I pictured him standing up, his white man-tailored shirt a little too tight around his belly, his tie straightened, shaking hands fervently with the incoming soon to be owners. Them thinking their world would be a bit more beautiful with a new car.

Future Girl

As the month reaches the middle and I start feeling the end of March approaching my eagerness grows to get to NY and settle in to a new way of life; living with Matt, starting a new job, navigating a new city, making new friends, strengthen old relationships. I'm also starting to find that more and more I'm living in the future, pushing through each day to get to the next and the next and then the weekend and then the next month. Is it healthy? Probably not. Do I keep letting myself do it? Yes. I need something to look forward to and I'm letting myself continue to find the next thing to look towards when current days pass. I can't remember if I've always done this or if its a result of the loss last year. I find days and times when I'm truly living in the moment, not looking towards the next moment, but they are few and far between. I'm not sure if I want to change this current mindset, its driving me, pushing me to work hard and stay motivated. I'm somewhat convinced that when I get to NY I'll want to take in each moment, each newness, relish it all and really live in it-- I'll start being in the present, surely still looking forward to the future plans I'll make, but appreciating what I have in the moment and feeling like I've finally gotten to the place I've been standing on my tip toes to see for so long.

Resolutions

I said I wasn't going to make a resolution this year. I actually said to a group of people, I'm resolving to not make a resolution. One of them smartly replied, "That's a resolution". Okay, so it kind of is... but then I got to thinking about really making one.

Last year I resolved to try a new restaurant every month. I was really on track until April. I found some great new restaurants too, the Ivy was probably my favorite find. Maybe it was last years resolution getting stomped on by the enormous life change that made me not want to make one this year. Maybe it is that I just want to live each day and not worry about fulfilling a resolution. Maybe I've already resolved myself to too many changes and newness this year.

Sunday evening I was doing nothing around the apartment and realized I hadn't turned the TV on. Usually when I have an evening to do nothing the TV is on in the background. I decided, I watch too much TV and I have a stack of 5 books on my nightstand that I want to read. I determined my resolution would be to read more. So, as my starting point here is what I'm reading and why... maybe it won't only motivate me to dig in and read these books, but motivate some of you out there to find a great book, turn off the TV and dive in.

Downtown- I started reading this book last year, it got me through many Lucky Star bus trips to NY. It inspires me to explore my new city and has already gotten me excited at the wonderful place I'm moving to and all the possibilities its held for so many people.

Banishing Verona- I love Margot Livesy's writing. She brings characters to life in such interesting ways and has a really great style of creating quirky characters that you can really buy into.

Kaddish- This books captures not only the mourning process and where it can take you, but its a similar style to what I want to write and maybe publish someday about losing my father and where it took me

Inside Every Woman- I'm reading this for a bzz campaign, it did inspire me to start writing the above mentioned book, but mostly I read it as my "light" reading and to look for some tidbits I can take away.

There are many more on my shelves, and recommendations that have come my way. Hopefully regardless of where this year takes me its a resolution I can keep!

So This is the New Year

I feel obliged to write a New Year post. As a blogger, I read other blogs and I've found that most of them have written the classic New Year post. "I can't believe what happened to me this year, I'm so happy, what a great year, I'm so different, blah blah blah blah." (nothing against those typical new years post, I read them don't I? And I enjoy them.)

Well- mine may be a bit different. I'm so glad this year is over. The first 3 months of it were really the only that hinted a nice 2006 filled with happy changes, fun adventures and opportunities to grow and change in positive ways. I can't even remember anything that happened January-February. Come April and my year basically turned to shit. There were changes, there were adventures and I sure as hell grew- but there wasn't anything positive about it- and honestly I don't want to do the typical "lets find the positivity in it" writing. I think I've done that and I hold that inside of me, the underlying optimism and positivity, still. But at the end of the day, I'm really f-ing glad this year is done.

I wrote back in the fall about my hesitance to call the Jewish New Year my New Year. I'm ready now. I'm still hesitant, there is a bit of pessimism that shows itself more prominently in me now, but I'm also excited at the plans I've made for 2007 and the hopes I have for what the year could mean for me, my family and my friends.

As we rang in the New Year here last night my Mom put on a Death Cab song... "The New Year" and I'll leave it here for you. For me, its a fitting description for the pessimist in me. For the optimist in me I see a fitting description of the possibilities a New Year can hold if you don't put too much weight on the occasion and just keep living each day.

Happy New Year

"The New Year"

Death Cab For Cutie- Transatlanticism

so this is the new year.
and i don't feel any different.
the clanking of crystal
explosions off in the distance (in the distance).

so this is the new year
and I have no resolutions
for self assigned penance
for problems with easy solutions

so everybody put your best suit or dress on
let's make believe that we are wealthy for just this once
lighting firecrackers off on the front lawn
as thirty dialogues bleed into one

i wish the world was flat like the old days
then i could travel just by folding a map
no more airplanes, or speedtrains, or freeways
there'd be no distance that can hold us back.

there'd be no distance that could hold us back (x2)

so this is the new year (x4)

Traditions

When I was young- between 8 and teenage years (I was a pretty easy teenager, enjoying family and family friend events) my brother and I would head to Ali and John's (family friends) for cookie making and tree decorating. We would roll out gingerbread dough on counters sprinkled with flour, cutting out trees, snowmen, gingerbread men, stars and circles. Being careful to push hard, make sure the cookie cutters did their job and we got perfectly cut out shapes.

As they baked in the oven, filling the house with smells of warm sugar, we'd prepare the table with pastry bags of colored frostings, sprinkles, silver balls and colored sugar. As the cookies came out of the oven we'd layer them on the table and dive in. I'd use reds, blues and greens to make snowmen with scarves, male and female gingerbread people and circles of frosting layered with color sugar. We'd lick our fingers between cookies, admiring our work, wondering which we should eat first.

When all the cookies were decorated we'd move them to the counter, so we could admire them as we set the table for the next event- tree decorating. Ali would put her boxes of ornaments on the table as we lined the tree with lights and garlands. We'd take out each ornament, admiring it, asking about it. Some we recognized from years previous when we'd made pasta angels that were spray painted gold, or painted ornament balls at school. I took great care in placing each one, knowing to put the heavier ones on stronger branches and ensuring that the tree looked balanced when I'd step back and survey the work thus far. As I got older I often remember doing most of the tree independently as Ali would decide which ornaments would go on and occupy Sammy who is 5 years younger than me.

I always looked forward to this day spent in the Christmas spirit. Yet, I never missed having my own tree to decorate. Spending time with Ali in her Christmas world was enough; it was what I looked forward to and enjoyed doing. I remember years when we would arrive after lunch and the next we knew it was dark out and the tree lit up the room. I never even wanted my own tree, or really though of decorating Ali's as doing something Christmassy. It was more about spending time in her warm house and playing with ornaments and sweet frosting.

I look forward to a time when I can bring my children to Ali's house. To make ornaments that will be hung, cookies that will be eaten and watch them pick and choose where to hang each ornament, knowing that some were made in that kitchen by their mother. And in my mind it won't be about Christmas, it will be about family and friends and how the time of year can bring them together, to share warmth, love and traditions.

plan, plan, plan

I'm a planner. Its just my nature. I like to know what I'm doing and when. I usually have 2-3 social "events" planned each week so I know what I'm doing at night and I know who with and where. I also really enjoy quiet nights at home with myself, but even then I'm "planning" to watch TV all night or "planning" to cook myself dinner, read and do laundry. Its all planned out.

But life doesn't work out how you plan it. And sometimes that's hard to cope with. I'm planning to move to NYC in April and there are lots of littles things that I'm planning to happen then too, buying new dishes, buying things to decorate a new apartment with, lots of them involve spending money. But there is a huge new factor in my plans- I'm moving in with The Boy- its not just about my plans anymore- he's now a crucial part of them. He doesn't like to plan. He's also in law school and therefore doesn't have the same income as me. I'm going to have to be a bit flexible in my plans, and that's hard to cope with too.

I've also realized that some of the "plans" I'd created in my head maybe aren't really what I planned on. Sure The Boy and I are ready to take the next step, even beyond moving in together, I'm ready to wear a ring he presents to me. But do I really want it to happen ASAP? Maybe I've let other people's plans invade and weave themselves into my own. So when it doesn't happen when they've planned it to, which is now when I planned it to... what then?

Well... life doesn't work out how you plan it to. And you just have take a deep breath, maybe a klonopin to help you sleep that first night when you're figuring out what your real plans are, blog about it a bit... and move through it. Because, just because it doesn't turn out how you think and just because your plans can be shot to shit, doesn't mean you can't be happy with how everything turns out. Right?

Blue

I got mad in the car on the way there- I was trying to talk future, apartment, sharing and he wasn't agreeable to my ideas. I think I was literally pouting.

As we walked into the restaurant he asked if I was okay- of course I said "I"m fine." He responded with, "I know you'll be fine in there, but before we go in are you okay?"

We sat down for lunch, I was smiling, talkative, the perfect guest. I felt okay.

I got up at one point to use the bathroom. You had to walk down a steep flight of stairs and the bathroom was decorated like a classic powder room. I stared at myself in the mirror. I wasn't okay. I felt a weight, a hard, heavy weight on my chest. For a minute... no... more like a second, I lost my bearings. Where was I, what was I doing? I didn't want to be there anymore.

I put my smile back on for the rest of lunch, I had to, but the weight persisted, getting heavier with each forced smile. His mother had sat me so I could look out over the water the restaurant sat above. I had seen swans floating on the body of water earlier and now I saw seagulls rising and falling over the pond. Their belly's reflected the blue of the water, creating the illusion that they were blue. The blue seagulls rose and fell and I stared, perplexed. Their blue was reflected in my mood, or maybe the other way around. It just fit.

Later in the car, as we drove- to where I didn't know- I gave in to the weight. My body turning into itself, my tears as quiet as I could make them. He pulled onto a side street and stopped, I opened my eyes. It looked like we were going into a park. He reached his hand over and took mine, I cried harder and louder, I needed to.

"I don't know what to do." He admitted. "Just hold me," I said. "I do, I want to. Its kind of hard to do when I'm driving." I turned to him, "I know" I unbuckled my seat belt and leaned into him. "Where are we?" I asked.

Later we walked around the park, to a patio behind a large stone mansion. He pulled me close to him the air around us getting cooler, our eyes turned looking out onto the water. It was blue, but there were no seagulls.

'Tis the Season

I turn a bend on a familiar road and I'm greeted with a new sight. Have they removed some trees? Was a building torn down. Then I realize, its the season changing, the leaves are gone and I can see past the trees that have always stood there. My view is different, my perspective shifting. Maybe its a metaphor.

We're moving into a season of cooler temperatures so you bundle more, but its also a season of necessary family occasions so you spend more time greeting, talking, exposing yourself, and its a season of change - the New Year, time for renewal, promises of the year to come, motivation to better something, someone. The trees are exposed, bare for all to see, their buds waiting inside to expose themselves in the new year.
I've been stripped down, my leaves have fallen off... I can't hide anything anymore. My boss called me into her office recently, it was obvious how unhappy I was, how hard I was trying. I couldn't hide it. I didn't want to say what we were thankful for at Thanksgiving, I didn't want to cry.

Its time to start looking beyond the trees, what's past them, what's been laying there all this time that I haven't noticed before. I'm open now, I'm stripped down too, what can I share, what can I soak up.
I drive past the new perspective and "hmm" to myself in thought about what I've realized. And it will keep happening, there have been many familiar roads I've driven with new exposed sight lines. It is a metaphor, and I've got to pay attention.

The family started to say what they were thankful at the Thanksgiving table and I couldn't hide it from it, I was sitting right there in sight. I said what I was thankful for and I cried. I went back into my bosses office later that same week and laid it all out- here's what I do, here's what I want more of, and don't bend too much because I'm leaving at the end of March. There is something beyond those trees in the metaphor- a new place for me to see and be a part of. New York City.

Thankful

When I logged into Google this morning in the "How To" section, the first link was an article on "How to be Thankful". I hope there aren't many people out there clicking on it this morning.

I am thankful for knowing how to be thankful.

Even though I want to avoid the "Lets go around the table and each say what we're thankful for" moments, I am thankful... for my family, my friends, for all the things I have that I know not many others have access too.

The sky is bright blue, the clouds pure white, the evergreens pop against the fall sky and even the grass is still green. The sun is starting to shine over our yard and house. Its a beautiful Thanksgiving Day. Still, when I walked through the Tower Room this morning, where I now sit, and looked out across the forming day I felt saddness... saddness at what I'm missing, what Dad's missing. So I'll take the day in for both of us, so in a way he won't miss it and maybe I won't miss him as much... I am thankful for knowing how much he would have loved this day, how he would have gone out running this morning and exclamined how beautiful it was out.

There's a turkey to prep, veggies to cut and potatoes to mash... I set the table last night. Pictures to follow...

Happy Thanksgiving.

Relax

I've got stress in my life... I mean really, don't we all? My job is frustrating me... honestly my boss... but don't want to get into detail here, my boyfriend is 4 hours + away and I don't know when I can see him again, I need to learn how to save money better, I'm preparing for a major life change (another, luckily of the positive kind this time around) in 5 months (no details yet... need to wait till its more official), I've got some issues with a friend who doesn't realize it and to top it all off its still an everyday event in my head dealing with my father's death.

I run circles in my head thinking of all of this, something will generally set it off... I check work emails at home and get a frustrating response or see something that pisses me off and then its just a downward spiral into frustration, anger, sadness, stress... you get the gist. It just stews... it sits in my body and stews all the stress all the everyday shit mixed in with overarching issues... and it doesn't make anything good.

Two weeks ago they sent around an email about stress management, we could log on to our BCBSMa site and take a survey about our stress level and get entered to win a shopping spree. I of course did it. At the end it told me I had some stress, oh really? It give me some guidance and offered an easy PMR exercise to utilize. Being a bit bored, and frustrated with my job so procrastination had set in, I copied the advice into a power point, made it pink and put in against the background of a picture I'd taken of our Hydrangea bush this summer. I printed it out on the color copier and took it home, I was sure to use it now that I'd made it pretty.

So, back to the stewing. As I sat here, reading other blogs, preparing a blog about my work frustrations- which are what set off the stress cycle tonight- and getting ready to really nail home a beast of a blog... I saw the pretty piece of paper with pink typing.

I just went through the PMR cycle... and I must say... it worked. I am so relaxed, even writing about all the things that stress me out didn't take away the relaxation... and in my go go go attitude I didn't even do it for as long as they suggest.

I'll admit, as I near the end of the blog I'm getting a little anxious again about all the thoughts that are still floating in my head, but now I'm a believer... I can relax and this can help.

If you're interested... here it is:

Find a quiet, comfortable place to sit or lie down. We rcommend closing your eyes while doing PMR. Here are the simple steps for each muscle group, starting at your head and moving down to your feet.
Take a few slow, deep breaths, in through your nose, out through your mouth. Tighten the muscle groups in the order below, holding each for five seconds. Really feel the tension. Then, silently say, "Relax. Let it go." as you quickly relax the muscles and let go of the tension. Relax for 15 seconds. Then go on to the next muscle group and repeat the steps.

Forehead: wrinkle forehead

Face: frown, squeeze eyes shut, tighten cheeks

Mouth: open your mouth as wide as you can, tightening the jaw

Neck: turn left, turn right, then tilt chin down to chest

Chest: push chest out, shoulders back

Stomach: breathe in, then tighten stomach muscles

Back: arch your back, pushing shoulder blades together

Arms and hands: make fists then flex your bicep muscles

Buttocks and thighs: squeeze and tighten

Legs and feet: straighten legs out, curling toes down and away

Distinguished Alumni

Last night I spoke (as one of three) at Clark (my alma matta) to the English Majors (or the interested ones) about what I do, what my challenges are and how my English major helps me. I think I spoke too fast, and although I covered all those points the woman who went after me said so much more... and I kind of wish I had said a bit more... but anyway its below in case you are interested.

Hello! I’m Adrienne and I graduated with honors in 2003. I’m currently the People Strategies Team Coordinator at Shawmut Design and Construction which is a 600 M national General Contractor located in Boston. People Strategies Team is what we call our Human Resources department, and it is a different name because we act in a much more strategic way than most HR departments.

As a coordinator I support the VP and Director of our department in their day to day activities and on special projects for them and entire team. Day to day I manage their calendars and communications whether via phone or emails. In my support role I also help draft a lot of memos about many of the programs and practices our HR department is involved in. I’m a go to person for anything people may need from the Director and VP and usually anything in general that employees need from our department. Some of the special projects I work on are compensation research and benchmarking, planning and implementation of new computer systems and other non technological systems that are related to HR, like our applicant tracking system the recruiting team uses, and designing and facilitating training programs. It’s a very complex role and each day is very different, I could take all my allotted time describing what I can do on a typical day. But let me tell you a little bit about Shawmut.

Shawmut is extremely high energy and fast paced so new projects and needs are being tossed my way daily. One of my major challenges is keeping everything in order, I have to be detailed and organized. Another challenge I encounter is being asked to work on things I’ve never done before, or am not that familiar with. As someone new to not only the work world, but the HR industry in general this challenge will lessen as I learn and grow in my role and in my chosen industry. Our company is growing a very rapid rate (When I started in January of 2005 there were 450 employees, there almost 650 now) and with that our HR department has to grow and change many of the old procedures. This has given me exposure to change management, systems implementation, and taught me how to look at current policies, procedures and systems and understand where they can grow and change and where they just need to be completely revamped.

So, how did my English major prepare me? You may hear what I do and think- there is no way she needs an English major for that? Let me first tell you how I got to HR from the English major. As I began to explore Clark’s 5th year free program the only program that really spoke to me was the Professional Communication Masters Program. In this program there were 3 different areas of focus- Human Resources, Marketing, and Management communications. Being a Sociology minor I saw HR as a combination of my English and Sociology skills. I would be able to communicate well and understand how the employees of the company I was working at would respond to certain forms of communication.

So, that brings us to today- and my work in HR. I feel that my Masters program was able to prepare me for what HR is all about, what HR professionals can focus on and where different HR departments go with their practices. However, my English major enabled me to be ready for anything, which as I said earlier is a necessity in my ever changing fast paced environment.

I can write up memos/emails communicating important initiatives and communications to the company or select employee groups for my bosses to save them time.

I can take a document they’ve written and look at it with an editors eye, finding typos and helping them better present their points.

I can read and summarize articles, providing them with time saving ways of taking in important industry information. This also exposes me to industry information that will help me learn and grow a bit more quickly in my role.

I think the area I’ve seen my English major prepare me the most for is my work with the Training and Development team. Our training programs consist of Overheads to present, Facilitator Notes to help with the presentation and Participant guide books that give the participants a take away from the class and include exercises to do during the class. In my work with T & D I’ve helped write up overheads which need to present a lot of information in very concise ways, I was able to learn how to best present ideas concisely via my English major curriculum. I’ve also been able to write up the participant guide books which require a certain style of writing, something I adapted to easily, and again it is writing a broad point in a small space requirement. All those one page essay’s that could have taken 10 really helped with that! And, presenting frequently in classes helped allow me to be comfortable in front of a group and facilitate some training programs.

Honestly, even before I was asked to speak about how my English major has helped me, I frequently thought to myself and out loud how thankful I am that I had the chance to hone my writing, reading and communication skills in an English program. They’ll tell you during your time as an English major that you can do anything with your degree, and its true. It will help you in all aspects of business. Just like I could talk all night about what I do everyday, I could also talk about the skills I learned as an English Major that help me do well in my job and decreased my learning curve. In many cases it will give you a step up because you’ve already developed strong ways of communicating that many first year grads lack.

Web Cool Hunting

Work has been somewhat slow lately, and I've been exploring a lot of websites... Some of them are pretty neat and I wanted to share... a web form of cool hunting!

1. Techie Diva's Guide to Gadgets :

This website is so fun. It keeps you updated on all the fun gadgets, toys, ideas, etc that women who enjoy technology and being women will love. I visit it almost daily, and while I don't often buy anything they talk about- its still fun to keep up on the technology trends, and who knows maybe give you some good gift ideas!

2. Hungry Girl :

I found this site through another blog I read and now get their daily emails. It combines the need that women feel to diet and look good with the reality of how hard that can be when you love food! Some of her recipes are really brilliant and fun to try, and she also introduces great new products, like True Lemon and True Lime which I adore. The emails are fun to get everyday, especially the ones where the review different diet products and give you the real deal on if they're worth the reduced calories/fat/etc.

3. Yelp! :

Yelp is a great site to use when searching for reviews on restaurants, doctors, stores, mechanics, etc. It is real reviews from real people telling you what they really think! I love it. If you click on the link above you can see all the reviews I've done, and then just search from there to find anything in the Boston, New York or any other major metropolitan area. Enjoy- and if you sign up to start reviewing, make sure to request me as a friend!

The next few websites are other blogs I visit daily, multiple times to see if they're updated. They are on my blog roll but I figure, why not give an explanation?

4. Pink is the New Blog:

A work friend turned me on to this site when I caught her looking it one day, and was like ooh what is that? Its celebrity gossip (so if that's not your thing, just close the window) mixed in with some humor and some tales of Trent's own life. He's funny, real and gives me my daily dose of celebrity gossip- perfect.

5. Greek Tragedy:

Dad pointed an article in the New York Times about Stephanie Klein out to me once a couple of years ago, and about 4 months later I wanted to read more- so I found her blog and have been glued to it ever since. I don't know what it is, most other bloggers don't keep me intrigued that long- its like blog reading ADD- but I'm drawn to Stephanie's story, her life, where she's going and what she's doing and I keep reading and checking for updates. She recently wrote her first book, which I will buy when it comes out on paperback because I really dislike hardcopies, and is now working on a pilot- so its not just me that likes her writing. I really encourage you to check her out, especially if as your reading my blog you get some blog reading ADD...

Addictions

Today via emails I backed out of triva on Tuesday to do spinning instead... and then said as a side note- I got all my bills this weekend and I really can't afford to go play trivia somewhere and end up spending $25 on a meal and beer I don't need to spend $25 on. I apologized with, "I hate using the money excuse". The friend responded with, no use it- I frankly need to use it more often, because its true.

A few hours later, still via emails still with the same friend I talked about thinking I may need closed toed shoes to wear to the event I'm going to for work this weekend. I already had the dress, but it was meant to be worn this summer and never was so the strappy open toed shoes I had bought to go with it probably won't work for a mid November event. I searched on Zappos- found some for $80 and contemplated paying $15 to have them shipped 2nd day to me. Then I got smart and decided to go to the mall after work, and still spent $80 on shoes, and $2 on parking, I had to have for the event this weekend, because open toed just wouldn't be right. I'll try them out tomorrow to break them in a bit, although they were surprisingly comfortable in the store, and maybe I've finally started to break my feet into heels. I promised that if they don't go with the dress I'll return them, and that I'll wear them a ton after the event. There's always a way to convince yourself you need something... doesn't that happen with all addictions? Yes, I admit it, I have a bit of a shopping addiction- but check them out... aren't they great?

Rut

I don't know what to write about. I've got all this stuff in my head, but I don't know how to get it down in words that express my emotions, are written well and provide entertainment value. A lot of it is work related, and I don't want to write about work here... just in case. Some of it is the same old stuff I've been writing about, and I don't feel like finding new ways to express my grief process.

So, I'm stuck. There is almost too much sensory stimulous surronding me for me to pick something out and expound on. I want to learn how to use my camera better so I can take pictures and start using them as entries. I'm becoming more and more drawn to images, things I see around me everyday, and I picture how they could come across in photographic form. I keep saying I'm going to write everyday, get something down, and then I find otherways to use my time and don't end up writing. But I guess this is writing... this is releasing my thoughts, they're just not as formed and creatively spun as usual, as I'd like them to be.

Empty

The lights were bright, distracting me from the road, drawing my eyes to the empty field. The grass faded green in the outfield, the dirt cleanly shaped to outline the infield. Where were the children? Why was the field lit up, but empty?
I thought of my trip to Chicago, walking through millennium park, passing 6 or 8 empty baseball fields - I wanted to run through them, use them in some way but we stayed on the path looking out at them- I a bit entranced by the empty beauty, imaging all they held, the games won, the time spent together as a team, as a family. A couple walked onto them, over them, through them. I didn’t know if they would be playing catch or just using them as a short cut. We walked on. Their blankness stuck out in my mind.

They were empty, I felt empty. I wanted them to be full of children playing, of teams battling for a championship, of inner city youth having an outlet, a green space to play a safe place to come. Maybe I just wanted those things for myself, I needed a safe place to be, a place full of life, of hope and things won.

I turned my head again and looked at the empty field, all lit up, the signs of fall apparent, the dying grass, the leafless trees. Turning my head back to the road, I drove on. NPR began reporting about deaths in Iraq, focusing on one marine who had died. His mother spoke, frank and open, the love and loss apparent in her voice. She read a poem he’d written after returning from Afghanistan, the change in his personality evident. His brother spoke about being told not to enlist, to stay away from the Marines. His mother spoke about sitting her son down before he returned to Iraq to plan his funeral, just in case. How he had decided to have his friends be pallbearers, not the marines and then described them carrying his coffin. The reporter came back on, I heard the tears in her voice, as she ended the story. I started to cry. I let myself cry. As I pulled onto my friends road, I stopped myself, I knew if I really let it hit me I wouldn’t stop. I pulled myself together. As I sat in the car, turning it off, getting my things together, I thought about the young marine about all the loss in our world. As I write this now, I see that empty field as the beginning of my thoughts changing, my perspective shifting to emptiness and loss. I didn’t see the field as awaiting the game that would be played later in the evening, the lights just warming up. I just assumed the field was empty, would sit ready for something that would never come. Like this marine’s mother, sitting, empty, waiting for someone that wouldn’t return.

Cloudy Day

I’ve been drawn to the sky, spending a lot of time pondering the clouds. For the past month I’ve headed west on the Pike towards Newton each Thursday. There’s a point on this route where you inevitably hit traffic and have to stop. It must be on top of a slight incline because this past month I’ve noticed how much sky I can see. No sky scrappers or trees blocking my view, just miles of sky filled with clouds. Each week the clouds are different and beautiful. Normally they are what are blocking the sun, but lately for me that’s been okay.
I spend many minutes gazing up at them as I sit on the road, only averting my eyes to inch my car forward in traffic. I don’t mind the delay, it gives me time to look at the clouds. When the sun is setting within them they turn purples, blues, reds, oranges, yellows and grays. When there is a bright blue sky they are often rounded, soft and pure white. When its been stormy they often dot the sky like polka dots, and sometimes when its windy they are wispy and nearly non-existent. I’ve never thought before how beautiful and vast clouds are.
I don’t remember ever being this drawn to the sky, or clouds. Ever. Yet, each day I find myself looking up, excited when I find clouds, awed as I stare. They are so beautiful, so different, so ever changing.
I often wonder if he is behind them, causing this enhance beauty, giving me something to look up to and find.
Some may say, my attraction is symbolic of my state of mind, “my head is in the clouds“. I feel like now I’m finally out of the fog that surrounded me this spring and summer. I’m feeling more grounded, able to remember more, focus better. And now, that I’m out of my “cloud” I’m more drawn to them then ever in my life.
With the changing of the clocks, it will be dark as I drive to Newton each Thursday. Luckily, I sit next to a large window everyday. Although my view is mostly a crane and the Pru, I can still gaze at the clouds of that day. I look forward to going outside each day and seeing the cloud formations, the colors they’ll hold, the shapes they’ll take and how they’ll change throughout the day. Maybe my head is in the clouds, but they are giving me something to look forward to, inspiration for the photography below and place to put a lot of my wandering thoughts.

I'm looking more pretty

A woman at work stopped me in the bathroom the other day, she had something work related to tell me but before she started she said, "You've looked really pretty recently." I probably cocked my head and said something like, "aww, thank you."

I left the bathroom obviously feeling really nice, wow- I look pretty lately. Okay.

Driving to the gym after work I thought, hmm, I have been putting more effort into what I'm wearing, and I've been wearing make up everyday... maybe thats it. I told my Mom about it on the phone later that night, she added that I probably do look better- people have told her she looks much better and several people have commented that her voice sounds different. Maybe a bit of the color has come back to my face and I probably look a little less tired. It is an upward trend, things do get easier, life goes on and you keep living it and go back to living it a bit more fully.

Its definitely motivated me to keep up my appearance, I want to keep looking pretty, maybe more so each day. Its added some motivation back into my mornings, and that's a good thing.

"I feel pretty... oh so pretty... "

I didn't edit this

My blog has been depressing, my thoughts have been depressing and this is a place to put them. But enough with depressing thoughts, lets try something happier. I have love… I have real love, the forever kind. Thank god. I’ve been depressed, lets not lie even though this is supposed to be a happy blog, and tonight as I lay in bed and try to sleep not wanting to take a pill to help me, not wanting to put my thoughts onto my blog because its been a bit too depressing and lets face I did that in the last entry can’t have too much of the same thing here… I am trying to be marketable… right? Anyway, as I lay in bed trying to sleep but really thinking depressing and anxious thoughts, I realized that this past weekend I didn’t think those thoughts, I didn’t worry about wanting something new, something more, I didn’t worry about work and not being motivated by it, I didn’t worry. I was with Matt and that made me happy. I was able to put aside the other thoughts and just be with him. That’s how I know it’s the forever kind of love… because he makes me happy, he makes me feel okay in the moment, with him I don’t worry about rushing to the next thing just to do something else, I can be in the here and now and not think depressing thoughts that make me want to fast forward. Sure, I’m still deep down unhappy and sure I take that out on him with petty arguments about splashing water on the counter, but the fact that I can look back on the past weekend and know that I was happy in the moments is a lot. Its security, I can have faith in my relationship and where that will take me because I have real love.

I lie awake at night...

I miss you so much. I lie awake at night, often, thinking about you... where you might be...what you might know. The loss is so permanent, so fixed, so great, its hard to fit in to my life. Sometimes I feel like people think I'm over it, that I've moved on, I'm "okay" like they knew I would be. I'm not. I'll never be over it. You're gone, forever, a huge gaping hole left in my life. I'll never move on, there is no where to move to, you can't move away from this. I'm not "okay." Sure, I can function, I'm a highly functioning person. But there are days, and they're often, when I just want to lay in bed all day and mourn my loss, your loss, our loss. I'll admit it, I wish I would get sick, really sick, sneezy, nose running can't get enough tissues to catch up to the snot sick, so that I can have an excuse to stay in bed all day. But I get up, I function, I go through my life, I do my job, I socialize, I live. I guess its easy for me because I am so highly functional... but in reality, its really hard and somehow I just do it, without knowing how or why I can. I'm much more anxious about another great loss, about what else could go wrong. I'm much more pessimistic, this sucks now and its always going to suck I'll just somehow incorporate the suckiness into my life and hopefully the pain won't feel as raw and unmanageable so often. I'm still me, but I'm not the same. I still function but it doesn't mean I've moved on. Its a long process, in fact a never ending process of figuring out how to live life without you. I lie awake at night thinking about you, where you are, what you can see. I miss you.

BFFs

When I was in high school everyone gathered at my house. It was only 5 minutes from the high school and we had plenty of space. I liked it that way; I didn't have to go anywhere. I had a party here freshman year, to christen it as the house to come to. I could come home and know that people would come over.

As we moved through college I lost touch with high school friends. Some just never wrote back to emails or responded to IMs; some found a new focus and path that I wasn't on, others I'm not sure what happened with, we just lost touch. I would come home and know that no one would be coming over it would just be me, visiting my house. I got to like it that way, I love spending time with my family and most of the activities we did were for four. There was one friend I did stay in touch with, but I would go to her for visits. I'm not sure why, but I started to feel the strain of always driving to her in order to maintain the friendship. I started canceling plans, it was so easy and comfortable to just stay home and I honestly enjoyed hanging out with my parents. We kept in touch, still and I did still see her... but there started to be a shift, I started to see her less when I was home, even with invites to my house or invites to my city. We finally talked about it, or wrote about it, in a couple of tense emails. We got it all out. The need to stay in touch, the hurt feelings when plans were canceled, the acknowledgment that our lives were taking very different paths and sometimes that makes it difficult to stay in touch. The connection grows weaker if we aren't experiencing similar things. Since then we haven't seen each other much. I did put in more effort for a couple of visits. I made it a point to go to her, I drove through a snowstorm to get to a party she was having. It didn't make a difference, I haven't seen her in at least 2 years and we haven't written either.

I come home very often, even more often since my Dad's death. I probably go home more often than my old high school friends I don't stay in touch with who still live in the area. Why did we all fall out of touch? Could we be friends again? I recently had a drink with someone I had been close with my last two years of high school. We hadn't even really tried to stay in touch, although I remember a visit my freshman year at college, she was a year younger. We talked a lot about high school friends, where we're going in our lives and where many of the people we went to high school with are going. How that is much of the reason we don't stay in touch, or want to see them when we come home. We are too different now. We had the same perspective. It’s so nice to go home, to be with our family, to be in that house, but we wouldn't really want to see those people. It would be awkward, hard, forced. It felt refreshing to get it out, and have it mean something to someone in the same situation. Her parents had moved out of the house she grew up in, its easier for her to go home and not see those high school friends, they aren't around. My Mom still lives in the same house that had so many of my high school friends go through it when I was 16. My boss and another executive once said to me, "You're too savvy to be from New Hampshire." I told them that my Mom was from the South Shore of Massachusetts and my Dad from Waterbury Connecticut. They ahhed and agreed that's why I'm so Un-New Hampshire. Maybe that is part of my desire to visit home, to be in this house, but not see the people I grew up with. Many of them are born and breed in New Hampshire. I'm not saying they aren't savvy people too, but there is something to be said about not being born and bred here. There is something to be said for me falling in love with a man who is New York City through and through. I'm very drawn to the rural ness of my upbringing, but to the city like qualities he possesses.

I am in touch with some people from high school through MySpace, although I don't think that's really a connection more of a way to find someone again and if you meet in person then it becomes a connection. I tried to rally them to help plan a reunion. I'd like to see what's happened to everyone, where have they gone, what have they done... could we be friends again. It didn't happen. No one else was as behind it as I was.

Obviously I think about this a lot. People ask me about it too, "Are you in touch with anyone from high school?" I always say, "Not really." And I can see the surprise on their face because they know how often I visit home and I'm sure assume part of it is to see old friends. When I was in high school I figured that these people would be my best friends for life. That it didn't matter if we were all going to very different schools, we still had home, we'd still come here and everyone would come to my house and it would be like old times. I'm wiser now. I still mourn the loss of those friends, they are my high school memories. Yet, I know that they weren't my friends for life, I've made them in other places. And, I have a trunk full of notes passed in the hall to relive those memories through, I have yearbooks full of quotes and inside jokes. Maybe some day I'll get that reunion planned and we can hug and laugh at the good times we used to have and share our current lives and the differences will be clear... but we won't say anything about it... we'll both just know that after this event we won't be in touch. We'll just be memories.

The Day of Atonement

It’s a day of reflection. Time to think of the year that’s past, the good and the bad, the moments you regret, the moments you’ll cherish. A time to think of the year to come, to hope for more of the good and less of the bad, to create more moments to cherish and hopefully fewer you’ll regret this time next year. We sat in temple this morning, being guided through these thoughts, offered nuggets to take back and further reflect upon, prayed in hopes that God would forgive(whether you believe in one being that can forgive or not), prayed in hopes that we could forgive and would be forgiven. We come home to reflect.

The washing machine was turned on, the computers started up, email was opened, and the TV turned on. Then the power went out. We need to reflect, not distract ourselves with what we do everyday anyway. This day has to be different. We have to take the time, whether chosen or not, to think of how to better ourselves, our relationships with our spirituality (God if you believe), and others in the New Year. In Temple we decree that God said he has forgiven us, that we’ve showed ourselves ready for a New Year with less “sin”. Yet, God cannot forgive us for sins we have committed against others, and ourselves. That is the key point for me. I have to focus on myself, I’ve been trying to focus on myself… and yet that includes opened internet pages, a TV turned on. That’s not complete focus, in fact I think it may be distraction, I’m avoiding the time I need to spend in my own head, scared of what may come up. That is what this day is for, that is why the power is out.

So here I sit, on a windy porch, watching the light move on the changing colors of the leaves. I notice the contrast between nature and man in the poles we’ve erected to run electricity to our house, only to be blown out by the force of wind. I lean back in the rocker and reflect on the year, on the tumultuous events of the spring and summer. Maybe I am ready to call this a new year, maybe I can really think today about who I am, who I’ve been, what I’ve been and done to others and how to forgive those who have sinned against me and ask for forgiveness from those I feel I’ve sinned. The wind picks up as my mind races with thoughts of the year, with thoughts of change, and life, and death. I feel the wind gusts calm and I start to slow down too, letting the natural events of the day take me through my reflection. That is how it should be. No electricity necessary. Sitting on a porch with the wind moving my thoughts is how I will spend my Yom Kippur, and apparently its how whatever else is out there, whoever is charting the course and making the events of the day occur wants it to be spent too.

I'm breaking up with you

A friend of mine recently broke up with her boyfriend. He put his hand on her shoulder, looked her straight in the eye and said, "I'm breaking up with you." Sure, "Breaking up is hard to do..." but there are some rules people should at least try to follow. When I was in high school my Junior year boyfriend broke up with me like this:

I went over to his house to pick him up, we were going out for an anniversary dinner- I think we had been together for 3 months- I was very excited not only to go out to dinner but because we hadn't kissed all day (keep in mind I was 16 1/2 kissing was HUGE). Our friends had gotten sick of all our kissing in public so we had put it on hold for the day. I went up to his room as he got ready to go. I was sitting on the end of his bed, I can still picture the set up of his room- where he was standing, where I was sitting. He started talking... "Adrienne, you know how a girlfriend or boyfriend is kind of like friendship with lust?" At this point I started to get nervous, where was this conversation going? I soon realized, no where good. "Adrienne, I've lost the lust for you." I immediately thought, what if we hadn't not kissed all day, would he have realized he lost the lust? As much as I remember the details of his room, I don't remember what I did next. I know the night ended abruptly even though he suggested we still go to dinner, I drove home in tears and immediately had two friends come over to vent with. My Dad even offered to go "beat him up." in that cute protective joking Dad way. Sitting on my couch, talking to my friend who has just gone through a shitty break up talk I offered to go beat him up, I guess I do have a lot of my Dad in me.

Houston (that was my Junior year boyfriend's name) and I had talked during a walk once about his homosexual experiences with a couple of guys a few years earlier, he was curious, but confused as he really liked women too... I didn't think too much of it- he was a pretty eccentric guy and I didn't judge. I told a couple of friends about this after we broke up, joking that "he must be gay if he lost the lust for me... I mean look at me, right?" Unfortunately this got back to him, as most information does in high school, and we never were able to be friends.

It is something I've always regretted. We had a good connection, Houston and I, and I never wanted him to think I spread rumors he was gay. During college I tried to find out what had happened to him, where he'd ended up, I wanted to reconcile- I wanted us to be friends. The last I heard he was moving to Russia to marry a Russian woman.

My friend suggested remaining friends when her boyfriend broke up with her. Hand on her shoulder, serious look in his eyes, telling her he was breaking up with her, she wanted to stay friends. He said it could be awkward, she said only if we make it be. Post break up talk, he left her notes, tried to be friends, it was too hard. So she went to him, like a mature adult. She talked it through with him, told him what a jack-ass way that was to break up with her, told him everything that had been running through her head since the night of the break up. Suggested that in time that be friends, but not right now. That should be a rule. Get it all out there, so you can actually be friends. Sure vent with your close friends, call him names and convince yourself of how bad the person is, but ultimately go to the person... maybe you can be friends.

Granted I was a Junior in highschool and technically we're now "Adults" but I still look at how my friend handled the situation and want to highlight it. She took a jack-ass way of breaking up and didn't make the person suffer, as I inadvertantely did, she told him what she thought, laid it out for him... and I think they will be friends.

Leaveing

The colors are returning to the leaves, I drive the pike and notice the pop of color along the road. Its fall. Today is crisp and windy, perfect sweatshirt weather. I'm so ready for fall, I don't know if I've ever been this ready.

I realized recently, that maybe it’s because it marks the end of the year nearing and I want this year to be over. Technically because I'm Jewish, my year ends Friday night... I've never felt like it signifies the end of the year for me, its more like a milestone in my religious year. My Bubba called me Sunday night to say hi. We did the "How are you..." and started to skirt around the obvious, I'm crappy because my father/son died... but we finally somewhat, sort of acknowledged it. Then, the reason for her call, she started to wish me a happier and healthier New Year and I could tell she was holding back tears. Yes it’s true that I've never acknowledged Rosh Hashanah as my new year, but this year I definitely can't- I'm not ready to say "Okay time to have a better year." I don't think my Bubba was ready to wish it upon me either, she couldn't get it out without the reality of why she has to wish it becoming too much. I'm just ready to feel like something is changing, something is shifting, and maybe I can start to put some of it into the "___ sucked" category. Like in June I could say, "May sucked." and now that its fall I can say "summer sucked." Soon, I'll be able to say "2006 sucked."

For my Bubba I'll try to stay positive, a New Year will come whether I acknowledge it now or in January, and I'll hope for it to be happier and healthier too, as much as saying it makes me choke up a little too.

Reality Check

If you've noticed the books I'm reading sidebar you'll see one of them is a self-help book for the grief process. And, if you read my blog you can clearly see it is definitely a process I can use self-help on.

The book is broken into days of the year, each day is a quote related to grief and the grief process, and then the author writes a small commentary on how she reflects on the quote and how it could relate to the general grieving population.

My Mom visited a family friend on Monday evening, one that she hasn't really seen since my Dad died. She was walking in her neighborhood and decided to stop by. As soon as she walked in and sat down the friend expressed her sympathies, "How do you do it? You have to start your life over! You have to learn how to live your life all over again, this time alone." As my Mom relayed the story to me the next day, we both laughed, and then we both talked of our appreciation at someone letting us speak of the reality of the experience. She does have to start over and it is really hard and she doesn't really know how she's going to do it, she just is.

And, overall it really fucking sucks.

We talked more about how good it feels when people let you speak the truth of it, when even though they may be totally freaked out and scared, they let you share that fear and help you process it by just talking about it, admitting it, letting it live outside of our jumbled minds.

After we got off the phone, I picked up the Grief book to read that days entry. It was so fitting- as many of them are, a reason I really like the book- I never thought of sharing pieces of the book here, yet since Tuesday's caught my attention and so was fitting to something my Mom and I are both experiencing, I thought it could be good to share...so here it is:

"I sometimes hold it half a sin

To put in words the grief I feel;

For words, like nature, half reveal

And half conceal the Soul within. "

-- Alfred Tennyson

It's so hard to explain how we feel. When friends ask, and we sense that it's more than a routine polite inquiry, we want to tell them. Yet what to say?

The same anxiety besets those who try to express condolences. How many times have we heard people who've come from visiting a grieving friend lament, "I don't know whether I was any help at all. I didn't know what to say."

We know, since we've been on the receiving end of expressions of sympathy, that what is said is not as important as that the person has come to be with us, though it is possible to say "the wrong thing." A couple of mine are, "It's providential," and, "I'm sorry your daughter has graduated to the higher consciousness"!

But with few exceptions, the expression of love and the caring is what matters, not the words. In the same way, we who are groping to express our grief don't need to worry about acuracy or whether we're getting it all just right.

When the Moon

You can be driving down the highway, thinking of dinner, of what you've made with certain ingredients before and then the moon- enormous, perfectly round, lit up, appears in front of you- mouth gaping big. Reminding you of everything that exists beyond your reach.

Sometimes you need a shock that wakes you up from your dailyness, causes you to drive home without realizing you've gotten there, because all you can do is gape at the moon.

Snap

I'm not mad... but its about me now. I have to focus on what I need, on what my family needs, what my relationship needs and what my friends going through the same process need, and surround myself with the people who are able to do that too. I don't have the head space, or the mental energy to focus on you, It has to be about me now.

And I know you don't realize you do this, but it is always about you. Sure I get my "how are you doing" and "tell me about this or that" but usually its not about me. That was fine until recently, I didn't need the attention, and there was history to be considered. Yet, when it was time to be about me, you didn't step up. You couldn't shift focus. But I did. Now its about me.

Maybe you'll realize it, maybe you won't. What matters is that I have.

Advising Myself

I've been told I give good advice. Sometimes I just give it unsolicited, and I'm sure it annoys people, but I find I can't help going into advice mode. Often though people come to me with questions and I impart advice. When I was in high school I was convinced I should become a Therapist, I gave such good advice so why not make it a career? Part of the reason I enrolled at Clark University was its well known Psychology program (the only place where Freud spoke before the US disgusted him too much and he high tailed it out of here). Something changed that summer and I decided English would better suit me and made my path in that major. But, I didn't stop giving advice. I honestly don't know where it comes from/how I do it, I just know what to say and how to say it and how to guide people to do it.

I've had IM conversations with friends in which I type out what I think they should say, using I statements, making sure to be assertive and they'll ask me to email it to them so they can print it out and have it when they need to have the conversation. Recently a work colleague has had me edit/proof a couple of hard to write emails. Even one of my older work colleagues who is dating will ask my advice on relationships and men. Actually I frequently listen to and give advice to many of my single friends, even though I've really never dated and have been with the same man for 6 years. When a close friends Mother passed away 2 months after my Father had she called me and asked me to let everyone know. When I called and told one person there immediate response was, "What should I do?" And, being me, I gave her advice. This was more relevant since I had just been through the same experience, and she still felt comfortable asking me, maybe knew I'd give her good advice. Like I said, I don't know where the knowledge comes from or why it’s so easy for me to impart relevant advice.

But, this isn't meant to be a brag fest about how great I am at giving advice. I've been exploring it, in myself, trying to figure out why I can do it, where it comes from and at the same time making sure I'm really listening to people and not just spewing out advice when what they really want is for someone to listen. I think I figured out that the ability to give it no matter the situation and how it relates to my life experience comes from my Dad. He's was always able to look at situations and understand everyone involved and the best outcome for each party. He took the most unlikely candidates for jobs and made it work for the manager and the employee and always stayed connected to both. My mom frequently talks about his ability to make her feel better no matter the situation and talk her through how to proceed. Even with me, I could tell him about drama in my personal life with friends or colleagues and he'd give great advice even though a female teenager and her friends are probably one of the farthest demographics from his. One of my Brother's friends once sought him out to talk about life and his future, and his parents to this day still remember fondly how helpful he was. And that is all in me, too. I'm so happy I realized how connected I am to him in this way, and now as I fill those shoes, a real piece of him will live on. One of the last things I told him was that I would keep making him proud and now I not only have a tangible way to do it, but it allows others who can recognize that piece of him in me to be proud of him.

Check-In

Since most of my time is at work, I thought it would be interesting to do a "high level check-in/touch base" like what I have to do at work with my blog.

I started it to start writing again, it was lacking in my life and this was supposed to motivate me to do it. I have been writing more, which is great. When I started it some how these little essays and observations are what came out, inspired from what was happening in my life. I liked them, I continued with them.

My Mom recently shared that a close friend of the family read my blog and was enjoying it. Then she said, its been sad. My blog that is, not him reading it. And, it has. Many of my recent posts have been written while crying, or with my throat feeling full and the need to cry being stifled because I was at my desk at work. (See most of my time is at work). I started to think, is that bad? Should I re-shift the focus? Should I start using it really to write fiction/creatively. Thus, the check-in. Then I realized that its been good for me to get out what I'm feeling in this form and share my observations, as sad as they are. I'd also like to think that its a place where people can see how I'm doing too, cause I know they want to ask.

So- my blog is good- I hope. Its going in a good direction and I'm happy with it, as sad as I am and the tone of my posts have been.

Please, feel free to comment and let me know how you feel about it - this is also a check-in for the readers.

Click

I used to sing the Toys R Us theme song and really believe it. Being a kid had so many pluses. You had a carefree lifestyle, imagination could run wild, fun was easy to find.

Now, I find, I'm so ready to grow up. I'm already in the grown up relationship... but why am I still living a state away from him and having to say goodnight over the phone? I want to come home to him everyday, I want to make plans with friends any night whether he's visiting or not and not worry about not seeing him, because I see him everyday, I sleep in the same bed with him every night. I want to cook dinner together, I want our things to be in one place... I want to really share space with him, settle in with him, not be constantly living out of travel bags in his place or mine on short weekend visits.

I want my own place, that I can do what I please with. A place I can leave my dishes in the sink and know they are mine and I'll clean them when I want (admittedly probably right away as I'm an anal cleaner) but if I want to leave them there I don't want to feel guilty about it! I want to fill the place with my own things, buy great furniture, hang up my pictures, paint if I please... decorate to stay not throw some stuff in to make it nice now, but not put too much effort because I know I'm leaving in a year, to two years.

I want to fast forward through this in between time. And yet, I have learned the necessity and meaning of living in each day, and cherishing what you have in that day. I'm thankful for the moments I get to spend with my family and friends, I know on a deeper level how quickly life can change, life can be taken away. Every moment I get to spend with my Bubba (a variation of the Yiddish word for grandma) learning about her life, allowing her to learn about mine and feeling the love passing between us I cherish. Visits with my grandparents now always end with I love you's. And I love them and their warmth, the happiness I feel coming into their home, how much I look forward to my Grandmother's cooking, the plans they'll make for us, the stories they'll share with us. I look forward to all the times I get to spend with all of them, I don't want to fast forward through that. Except, I'm so urgently looking forward to settling in with Matt, having a place of my own, maybe not feeling on so many days that life sucks. I'm sorry, I just can't think of a more poetic way to put it. Life Sucks.

Part of grieving is living through it, letting yourself feel and understand the loss you've experienced. I can do that, I know I can't fast forward through that. Yet, there are other things around me that compound the suckiness, I need those to be fast forwarded. I know I can't though. I didn't even see the movie Click, but I know what the moral was. If you fast forward to the good stuff, you miss the little things that matter, the major milestones you don't even see coming. Like realizing you can do it, you can live through the process of moving into the next step in your life, you don't have to fast forward to get there, you just will.

Sunday Mornings

This morning the Boy and I woke up lateish, but not too late to feel like we'd wasted the day. It felt like a Sunday morning in every aspect and I immediately suggested breakfast. We made our way to a favorite spot. The Boy said it would be too busy, we'd probably have to wait, I had faith. I got in line while he parked and had a table within minutes. After breakfast we picked up a fresh copy of the Globe and headed to my porch. There was a soft breeze, plenty of light and enough news to keep us busy for a good hour plus. I must admit, it was delightful. Later in the day I cleaned up the apartment, and watered the plants. It was the kind of Sunday morning I always wish for. Feeling connected, enjoying each others company, spending quiet moments together that often mean more than the passion and romance most people yearn for.

Next Sunday will be our last opportunity for a Sunday morning like todays for awhile. Sunday mornings after will be the end of the visit day, and those days suck. In the grand scheme it isn't too long for us to wait until every Sunday morning will be an opportunity for breakfast out, the paper on a breezy porch and quiet moments. I'm just sick of waiting.

With Extra Milk Please

This morning I took out the big coffee cup. I wanted lots of milk, and this one is perfect for that. As I sat at my Mom's kitchen table and started to enjoy it, I remembered all the mornings Dad had made me lattes in this extra big cup because he knew how much I loved my extra milk. I really miss him. Sure I miss the lattes- our espresso maker (Sylvia) revolted the day we called hospice and actually blew up when my Mom went to turn her on- but really I miss him. I miss weekends at home, coming downstairs and doing my best daddy's girl voice to get him to make me a latte. I miss drinking it slowly, taking it in, getting made fun of for letting it get too cold (I can't drink them when they're super hot) and getting to tell Dad how good it was. I miss him teaching me how to make them; with all the little steps he had created for it. The little things I would probably do if we had Sylvia back.

There is so much around me that makes me miss him, I got a flyer for an upcoming folk festival in New Haven- We went last year to see Richard Thompson and before Richard came on Dad and I walked around the booths looking at funny political bumper stickers and pins, waiting for hot water for tea and eating kettle corn- and immediately threw it out, I couldn't be reminded of it in that moment.

Sometimes its not as real, I can avoid the memories, avoid the moments in which the reality of his death is clear and present. Sometimes it’s unavoidable, like using the cup he probably last made me coffee into. And in those moments, I have to let the memories crash over me; I have to feel the pain and sadness that accompanies them and the other memories that float up too. They all crash over me. And as they do, my coffee can cool down.