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...)

( continues...) are not there to try to ruin the keyboard.

And that's what I lack when it comes to ita's death (goodness, each time I force myself to type that, and each time it doesn't get any easier, any more real). I was indeed lucky enough to get to meet her, when I was in LA, but mostly, I met her through her words, through this board and her posts in it. And she was so true to herself, so thouroughly faifhful to herself, that those words were enough to convery her spirit, her wonderful powerful honest joyous - I can add to many more adjectives here - spirit. Her words were how I was lucky enough to get to know her, the little bit that I managed to. Words were how I tried to communicate to her how much I respected and liked and adored and loved her.

And words - expecially those on computer screens - were something I didn't get to have much of lately. There are all sort of reasons - of excuses, and actual reasons, and urgent things preventing me from doing more things that I love and miss, or at least postponing them until the everyday running-around will become a bit less hectic, until nights are slept through, until physical needs of babies become a bit less urgent physical needs of toddlers and children. But regardless of explanations, this was the reality around my computer time (ever since I finished my PhD and started lecturing full-time, not working long hours in front of a computer anymore, but only getting to it for certain specific tasks), or actually, lack thereof.

So I didn't get to exchange nearly enough words with my friends not in face-space (also in face-space, but that's so not the point right now). I skimmed a bit, occasionally. I skipped a lot. I tried to threadsuck and see if I can find how people are doing. I followed "Beep Me" and "Press" faithfully, but I very rarely got to engage in actual conversation.

And you were there. You are always there. I can turn the computer on, and my fingers still type automatically the site's address, and I immediately feel comfortable poking around and seeing how everybody is doing. And if I ever get to watch a TV show or read a book or watch a movie, I can always look for the right thread, no matter how old (you can't believe how behind I am on any of these, and that's even on the stuff I wanna watch, let alone regarding things I have no idea about, and can't even tell what they are and if they may have an appeal for me). And there it is - lively intelligent discussion, and I can catch up on it, and usually I don't even need to have to phrase opinions, because you guys phrase them so well, much better than I ever could, and usually in a much more consice manner.

So the words are always there, and I can dig into them whenever I want, whenever I may find the time, the attention and being-awake-ness. And it's everybody's words. Including ita's. And whenever I may open a thread to read about something (I'm still in the past decade in "Literary", for example, but I do spoil myself with a few posts from there from time to time), the only presence I have for her, the "her" that is her for me, is still there.

And even if I skip in Natter, and her name is not there, it takes a minute to register that the reson is not that she took time off from the board, or went somewhere, or anything. The words are there, her words are still right there, nothing changed, so how can it change so much?

Probably this is why I can only write this now, after I got Lee's package. After a tangible object which could only be hers is right here. It makes it real, somehow, I guess. More real. A big step in the road.

I'm sorry. PiBoy and Pi++Toddler are due home any minute now, so I have to just click "Post" and close the computer. I have no idea if any of what I wrote makes any sense, but I'm afraid not posting it now may end up in it all being gone, and even if it is an entangled mess of large paragraphs vented all at once on the screen, I can't think of anywhere else I can put it. I'm - no, not just sorry. I miss my friend.

Probably this is why I can only write this now, after I got Lee's package. After a tangible object which could only be hers is right here. It makes it real, somehow, I guess. More real. A big step in the road.

I was at the grocery store last night, and the "International" section (which is really just half of an aisle) had a small amount of Jamaican foods, including a prepackaged bun, and my first thought was "I have to take a picture to see what ita thinks about this."

Every time I remember I'll NEVER find out what ita thinks about it makes it more real to me, and then Tim finds me crying in the International half-aisle of the grocery store.