::hugs Nilly::

Never too Mememe. Love you.

Love you, Nilly.

X-posted from F2F

Meara and I talked about this at dinner tonight (I got to see meara for dinner!), and she suggested what I think is a great idea--why not plan to gather in January? That will mark a year since we lost her, and if we got together over MLK weekend, that would make travel easier for people who have Monday off. Plus it's usually beautiful here in January, so a nice time for people from other areas to come here, and it's far enough away for people to save if they want to come.

Thoughts?

It's both good and bad for me.

Good in that I'm no longer tied to the academic school year in the same way I was (new position means I'm no longer in an admissions office).

Bad because I'm usually stone broke after Christmas, especially if my son comes up to visit like he does every other year. Still! I'd do my best to be there.

Whenever we gather I will try and get there. January works for me.

I like that. I wouldn't be able to do it this summer, and this would give me time to save up $$ got the trip.

Also, get me the fuck out of the Midwest in winter for a weekend, which is a bonus.

In agreement with Strix.

I don't see myself being able to do any travel that requires a plane for the foreseeable future. So the date doesn't affect me.

I'm local enough that I'm likely to be there whichever part of the year it lands on.

I'm sorry that I will not be able to attend either of the dates suggested, but will definitely be with you in spirit, if only that way, whenever it will end up happening.

I hope that having the bonfires every year brings you comfort and fond memories of your father.

Thanks. I find that it does, becuase that evening is a good memory, despite all the hardships tied to it.

It was candyb. She made them for all the Stompies, and they're so gorgeous.

Oh, Lee, that makes it even more special to me. Did I mention already how thoughtful and caring and shiny-haired you are?

Wolfram, it's so good to see you posting here, even if it is under these circumstances (I tried to e-mail you in January - I have no idea if you got my e-mail, I sent it to an old e-mail address of you that I had). I hope all is well with you and yours.

And thank you, Beverly, Amy, Vortex, and Pix.

I - I guess that part of what makes it so difficult for meMeME is the connection, and lack thereof.

I was just at my father's grave on Friday morning (and could feel, again, how that stone and that place mean next to nothing for me. I go there, this is what is done on the date of a person's death (and there are verses we read there, and "Kadish" being said, and family members meet and that in and of itself is meaningful enough), and it's important to my mother. But I can't help but feel that my father isn't there. He's more in the way I look for his knowledge when I try to solve a difficult definition in a crossword puzzle. He's more in getting lost in the small streets of Tel Aviv (probably the city and place he loved most). He's more in some phrases - spoken in a specific music-of-the-words, specific intonation - said even not only by me, but by my husband, as well. He's more in so many things that are not a place in which whatever may be left of his body is lying. But I digress).

So, I went to the cemetery, and there was a memorial - I'm not sure how to call it in English, service? gathering? Something in between, I guess. The daily prayers had a "kadish" said by my brother, and there was a short lesson on Jewish matters (a chapter from "mishna"), and most of all, there was a family meeting, including some uncles and aunts and cousins whom we get to see quite rarely, too rarely. There were outside places and events, outside of my own mind and emotions, not just inside them, mentioning his absence.

And, of course, there are the conversations with PiBoy. He's four years old now, and during that short time he managed to lose both grandfathers (my FIL passed away 3.5 years ago, and my own father, like I said, 2 years ago). He sees them both in pictures, and we tell him stories about the both of them, and how much they loved him. And the whole matter of death occupies him very very much (though, one of the Hebrew words for dying is quite similar - and comes from the same root - as the word for quitting one's job, and he uses the latter rather than the former, correct one, funnily enough). His sister is still too young, I guess, and as far as I can tell is not bothered by any of this, but I guess it's only a matter of time, because she hears the names and sees the pictures as well. We'll see.

Hmm, I'm spinning around the point and the meMeME quite a bit, aren't I? Oh, well.

But that's exactly the point, in a way - there are concrete parts of my life that belong to the absence, to the not-here-anymore. I can't overlook it, I can't repress any of it, I have to walk straight through this, and there's no way around. There are rules in Jewish "Halakha" for the first week of mourning ("shiva"), the first month, the first year. We've been through them twice in the span of just over 3 years. Regardless of the emotional baggage I have or repress or try to express, there are things that must be done, a routine that must be maintained. There are two young souls who are my responsibility now, and I have to be there for them, no matter how I might feel or what other difficulties make me throw large paragraphs at computer screens when they (continued...)