Not The Piece

Today, my chavrutah wondered aloud why I went the way I did at the end of yesterday's poem about Scott Gordon. He said it must have been because I was sad, but that he half thought I'd go the other way. I could just has well have said that he lives on in me.

I've been saying that a lot about mom. There's a lot of her in me. I guess there are many reasons why I'm more apt to say that my mom lives on inside me but that with the death of my friend a piece of me died.

I zoned out at the end of minchah today. There was another Chiyuv davening and I was mevater. But I didn't mean to be mevater on saying the kaddish, just on davening from the amud. I zoned out. I don't like admitting that my mother has died, just not thrilled with the idea. I mean sometimes I zone out anyway, which I also don't like admitting, but here there's reason for the distraction. Kuebler Ross would say it's denial, the first stage of grief. Others would say that stage should be over by now. Others would say there are no stages, only individual people living unique lives (see Wikipedia on these stages). Others would say nothing and just be (see haiku with space in it, below).

Right before minchah a chashuv Rav offered me consolation in a human way. He tipped me off that someone else would be leading. Afterward I was in a funk about having missed the kaddish. Another Rav came over to me and told me he just heard. All I could think was - how'd I just miss saying the kaddish. I'm not proud to say that it's happened before. I am proud of being human and sharing my humanity here and having learned from experience that putting myself out here is meaningful enough to others that it's worth it.

I went to another minyan afterwards just to say the Kaddish at the end. After, a different chashuv Rav came over to me and asked me how I'm enjoying my vacation. That brings you pretty much up to date. How was your day?

I'm working on The Piece. The magnum opus post to sum all of this up. It will not come.