Wednesday, October 27, 2010

"Password?"

"Hot cocoa."
"No."
"Gemara test."
"No."
"Uh bookcase?"
"No."
"Abracadabracadoo!"
"No."
"Moishele is the best."
"Ha. No."
"I can't figure it out, give me a hint."
"I want..."
 
My heart sinks. My hunch was correct.
 
I stall though, hoping and needing that my thinking was off.
 
"Um I want cookies and milk?"
"No."
"I want to stay up all night and play computer games?"
"No."
"I want--"
"I want Mommy now."

Saturday, October 23, 2010

"I'm not your kinde"

she interrupted me as soon as she heard that line in the goodnight song I was singing to her. "Why did you say 'Gutte nacht mein kinde' ['Goodnight, my child'] if I'm not your kinde? You're not my Mommy."

Monday, October 11, 2010

One Young Woman Gone

And hundreds cannot fill her place.
Not emotionally and not logistically and, clearly, not spiritually either.

"I know why they are fabrenging so hard",

says the 4 year old, three days after the levayah, "cuz they want Mammy to feel better."

Wednesday, October 06, 2010

The Kids Ran Into The Shiva Room

"Is it okay that the kids are running in there and playing?", I asked their father, "Or would you rather I take them out?"
"It's bad enough they lost their mother", he answered me, "must they lose their childhood too?"

Tuesday, October 05, 2010

Can Frozen People Move?

Yes, they can.

We are feeding the kids lunch, we are making phone calls and we are making jokes (albeit black ones), we are carrying suitcases and we are even going to the park.

Frozen people can move.

Matty was jumping on the mattress before, while I was looking for her pajamas. "STOP JUMPING!!!", I shouted like a madwoman. She wasn't frozen. HOW DARE SHE MOVE ABOUT SO CAREFREE?!

How dare the other Cohens not.

"How old was Tante Esty?" asks the 5 year old.
"33"
"That's not an old lady." she observes.
"No, it's not. It's young. Very young. Tante Esty was just a young lady when she went to Hashem."

Mushky muses that Hashem must be very busy and needed help so that's why He got Tante Esty.

And, sickeningly reminiscent of the world's Moishele, little Yechiel keeps asking for Mammy.

Frantic rush to finish filling out the Tzivos Hashem forms for school tomorrow.
Who's filling out THEIR forms, we wanna know.

"Most Mammies don't go to Hashem", the niece tells us. We agree. We literally see the question burning in her mind.

All the tehillim slots we missed. The hachlatas we didn't keep.

Who's going to make sure the 6 year old is not in her room crying for hours??

They'll bring meals, food and drinks to please every palette. But the souls will still cry out in hunger. All the care, concern and cleaning help in the world won't match up to one hour with their mother.

"Stop testing us, Hashem! We're going to start cheating!" cries out her mother.

Waiting for a levayah.
Are we in a novel? Are we really dealing with all this dodgy hospital stuff?
She's coming back in a few weeks, right? 4, 6 max. Alright, 2 months. And then we're back to normal.

"I want them to make their own lunches in the morning", he told me last week. "In case it's shayich."

That was the most horrible thing I could remember hearing in my life.

And we're sitting here having to decide between celebrating with one son by his wedding and one son by his wife's funeral. A funeral. A funeral. A body and a coffin. Hundreds of black hats.

Frozen people. We're moving.

We're wandering, lost. Unbalanced. Suspended in time. The world is moving but we stand in one place, staring off in the distance, until the tears come crashing down, blocking our vision. Do we really want to see anyhow? Better to just keep on moving. Moving. Moving.

Waiting For A Levayah

Waiting for a levayah...! Imagine that!

I can't believe that I'm actually waiting for a levayah.
We're WAITING for it to happen.
Like counting down.
Anxious, nervous, impatient, worried, frustrated, angry, sad, broken--we want that levayah!!

Waiting for a levayah??

We're waiting for Moshiach.

Saturday, October 02, 2010

The Width of the Jordan River

The width of the Jordan River varies from 144 km to 160 km.
The length of the river measures 251 kilometres and its depth is anywhere between 5 and 16 kilometres. Therapeutic, isn't it?

The stolen waters are always sweetest and I gave those up for waters painstakingly and honestly acquired.

And it tastes freakin bitter.

Why does doing the right thing so often leave me with the same sucky feeling as doing the wrong thing??