Under the Glass Bell

Rest in Peace

I have a long list of blogs that I keep up on regularly. (See list in right-hand sidebar.) I visited a blog called Brainhell nearly every day for the past year and a half or so. Brainhell was written by a man in his mid-40s who was diagnosed with ALS around four years ago. The blog was not only about how his disease progressed, it was very much about who he was as a person. His love of his life, his wife and his two small children came through beautifully.

Brainhell died on Saturday night. While his story is incredibly sad, it is a story of a remarkable human being who faced a terminal illness with grace and strength.

Rest in peace...

There's something going on that's not quite right

What an odd, odd week.

Last week in Hawaii was amazing. There are not enough superlatives in the English language to cover it.

This week, very odd. We came home to a sick Baby C. Sick and teething. Boy, was he cranky, poor little guy. But he's well now and is my sweet and lovely boy.

Back in my office on Monday, I got a call from the GM of one of my clients telling me that one of the staff members, a seemingly chipper kid in his early twenties, committed suicide last week. Shocking. And even though I'd only met him once, it hit me in the gut. Absolutely horrible that this happens.

I am negotiating a couple of additional contracts and I'm toying with the idea of renting some office space nearby. A couple of reasons, 1) I'm going to be managing the site manager for one of my clients that recently lost their GM, 2) It might be good for me to get out of the house to focus. It's hard w/ my sweet toddler upstairs available for squeezing at any moment of the day and 3) we've got an architect coming in next week. We've been thinking a lot about our house and how to make enough space in it to meet all of our needs. We both love it so. And love our neighborhood. We would have an additional floor of space to work with if I moved my office out. We'll see how all of it shakes out.

We made the decision to put our beloved eleven-year-old cat to sleep yesterday. She was very sick. We loved her and couldn't stand to see her suffer, so we let her go. We are all in mourning over her. Sad times.

I had a physical this week and it was the first one I'd had in a couple of years. I was diagnosed with high cholesterol and have six-months to bring it down on my own with exercise and diet. Otherwise, I'm being threatened with medication. I've been borderline high since my early twenties, so, obviously, there is a huge genetic component to this. But, it's time for me to take the bull by the horns. Adios, cheese and baked goods and red meat.

TGIF!

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.

This. This. This is a house of cards.

The day after my last post, I was to head to New Orleans for a conference. My cold was still pretty bad and I tried to take a later flight, but no dice. So I landed in New Orleans at 10:30 on Monday. I'd never been before. I stepped off the plane into the warmest air I'd felt in a good six months. It was stifling, actually, but once I got downtown, it felt breezy and nice. I checked into Hotel Monteleone.

But before that, I, along with a couple of business associates, hopped into Diana's cab. Diana being a very chipper New Orleansian, who had nothing but goodness and light flowing through her veins. We asked about the hurricane recovery and she said that it had been a rough year, but that the city really hoped to see a big difference in the coming year. Insurance companies held up a lot of funds, but hopefully, things would be soon be worked out for many who were stuck.

As I rode the 20 minutes downtown, I sucked on my lemon mint riccola and looked out the window. I saw house after house where you could still see a visible waterline zoom by. Suddenly, I had a million questions. How far back had the water come? How long did it take to drain? It's funny how it seems to all make sense, or actually, not make any sense when you are physically standing there.

We eventually drove by the Superdome. It felt creepy and sad, even in the spectacular sunlight.

We reached the hotel and decided we'd meet back at noon to venture out for lunch. I checked email and then, we ended up at Brennan's. What a glorious lunch. One of the best I've ever had. Glorious can be a dopey word, but it really applies to this lunch, believe you me. I had a pasta with bordelaise sauce and an amazing salad. I wrapped it up with the banana's foster, which was invented at Brennan's. Holy shit, was that good. I've never been a huge fan of banana's foster, but now, I get it.

I walked back to the hotel feeling light and happy and sated. I walked by shop after amazing shop. I was tempted to play hooky on the work that I had to go back to the hotel and do. But, I was good and went and did my bit.

I had a client call at 4. I was waiting for them to buzz me at about 2 minutes till when my phone rang. I saw on the caller ID that it was my mom, but it didn't make sense to me as to why she would be calling. She actually didn't know I was in new orleans, so was thrown off for a second. And then she told me that my aunt had passed away that morning.

I couldn't understand what she was saying. It didn't make any sense. My Aunt M was only 60. And in perfect health. This could not be right.

I don't remember the rest of the conversation. There wasn't much to say. I hung up and felt like I was sitting in a completely different hotel room than I had checked into. That's not such an odd phenomena after one hears shocking news. I remember about eight years ago, my friend T called me at work to tell me that our friend, F had been killed in a drive by shooting. I was looking out through a set of blinds when she told me and I remember one moment when it was like my vision changed and I was no longer looking out into a courtyard. Rather, I was just staring at long rows of green space formed by the metal slats of the blinds. I had to blink hard several times to get my perspective back.

There was no shaking it off or blinking to get my perspective back this time. I immediately started sobbing and called B. This couldn't be. Aunt M...what to even say? She had an energy about her that was infectious. She was full of such unconditional love. She was comfort. Period. You thought of her or went to see her and you felt comfort. I grew up two miles away from her. Her youngest is my age. She had two other kids both a couple of years older. And my uncle? They were a couple that were just joined at the hip. How could this possibly be? I still don't get it. I feel gypped. We all do. Completely ripped off.

So I called B. And he tried to get me a flight out of there to get back to Chicago that night. Ever been away on business and then had a deep personal hurt inflicted on you? Christ. You don't even know how to act. I had to notify those I was with, of course. And let the conference sponsors know that I wouldn't be speaking. There was only one flight I could get, which was leaving in an hour and a half to Dallas. First class was the only thing available. I'd have a two hour layover in Dallas and then would make it back to Chicago after midnight.

I started to get worried. I was obviously in some kind of shock because I couldn't remember what it was that I was doing. I had to actually write down the airline I was flying and where I was supposed to go. I made a point to put the paper in my pocket because I kept losing things. I found myself just wandering around my hotel room instead of booking it to the airport.

I got to the airport and had some leftover time. So I wandered through the stores and bought a couple of books and a stuffed monkey wearing a camo shirt for Baby C. I bought coffee w/ chicory for B. A colleague of mine just wrote an article for Playboy. So, I bought it. I sat in first class with my sunglasses on to hide my red-rimmed eyes, sipping chardonnay and reading Playboy all the while hacking my post-cold cough. The guy next to me must have thought I was a piece of work. I welcomed the distraction of reading.

The Dallas airport really feels like Texas. So I went from the foreignness of New Orleans to big, brash Texas. I sat in the food court, eating a pretzel dog with strawberry lemonade talking to B on my cell openly crying and saying, "How in the fuck did I get to Texas?" I bought C a stuffed pony and managed to catch an earlier flight. B and C picked me up at the airport at 11:30. My own little family. They were there to take me into their arms and bring me home. I squeezed C so hard that he squealed.

I was dazed and slept most of the next day. And then that night we drove to my parents house. They are three and a half hours away. Rarely can I cry around my family. I've had to do too much caretaking of them to afford myself that luxury. That's old shit, but still the status quo for me and them.

My dad cried more in front of me in the past week than he ever has in all the time leading up to this. It makes me really uncomfortable. It scares me. It is so much easier when they just keep things as they always were.

I'll write more about the funeral later. That day is an entry in itself. That day. That town. My sister. This entry is more about grief, sudden grief and what sudden, unexpected death means.

This. This. This is a house of cards. If my aunt M can just drop down dead with no warning, anyone can. My mom, my dad, B. How can life be like that? Why must we live under these circumstances? Who thought this plan up? I could go off on an existential mind-fuck right now, but honestly, I don't have the energy for it. My take away is that I loved my aunt. I miss her so much already. We can't take anyone for granted. I have to fix things with my sister. I have to buy a weekend/summer home down by my parents. I love everyone. Everyone loves me.