A Year of Mourning - December 16 - One Week Ends, Another Begins

Sometimes life seems almost normal. People say, "How are you?" And at that moment I am okay.

Then there are the other times.

I take kids to school. I go to work. I cook meals. I shop for groceries. It's all normal. And yet, very much not normal. I can't multitask. I forget names of people I've known for years. My focus is shot.

Friday night I started crying at dinner. No specific trigger. Just started, and couldn't stop. How can there be a world without Daddy? Gavi, the family's comic relief, took one look at me, and said, "Eema's broken." Then he brought me the cat, and gave me a hug, setting me off laughing. So there I was, crying, laughing, completely confused.

Regarding t'fillot - there's a lot more keva (the requirement of prayer) than there is kavanah (intention). Weekday Shacharit is meaningful, but Shabbat, Shabbat seemed empty. It was loud and it was fast, an assault on my senses. People greet me, and I realize they don't know my father died recently. Why would they?

I keep realizing the things I won't do this year. I won't see "Come From Away." (Yes. I do have tickets.) I won't be at my children's music night. I won't be at the gala celebrating the Masorti Movement in Israel's 40th (even though I actually will be. I'll need to be there for speeches etc., but leave for the party part.) I won't be at my daughter's play. I won't be at our annual Rabbi Burns Night (our own version of a Robbie Burns Party). I won't be at Sean's cousin's wedding. I won't be at another wedding. I won't attend the Second City event during the RA convention. And I'm only up to May.

There will be more. Likely many more. More mental confusion. More random crying. More events I miss.