And If He Isn't , I Certainly Am

Oh, how I am missing Paris. It's been nearly two years since I last visited. It's cold and flurrying in Chicago today. Miserable April.

I've been sick for nearly four weeks. Can't shake this nasty virus. Seen two doctors, both have told me to just give it some time.

That said, I feel off lately. Just plain off. I know that my aunt's death is at the heart at it. We went to my parents' for Easter. Odd, as we don't celebrate it. But I do want Charlie to have an understanding of the celebrations that are important to my parents. It will be tricky to navigate this as he gets older.

So, we stopped off at the cemetery on the way out of dodge.  There was no headstone as it's only been three weeks. Someone had stuck a mylar balloon that read Happy Birthday where the headstone should have been. She would have turned 61 last week. I asked B to stand next to me and say the Mourner's Kaddish. I stood on the dirt and just cried. And proceeded to cry for most of the three and a half hour ride back to Chicago. In a way I felt relieved. I finally reached the sadness that I couldn't seem to tap into for the last three weeks. That's unusual because I am a crier. I cried in New Orleans and on the way home, but I couldn't cry at the funeral or afterwords. I've been doing a lot of stupid shit, such as watching I Love New York, to avoid feeling what I'm feeling.

But I feel like I was able to let a bit of it out. I've been doing yoga and saying my daily Hebrew prayers in the hope of breaking through a bit more. It also helps to make checklists and force yourself to go from task to task. Otherwise, I swear, I'd just cruise the Internet all day.

Blah-di-blah. Here's to revving up and honing in.