Tag Archives: life

What’s happening?

I so admire bloggers who manage to post daily. I once was one of them–although the content was sometimes questionable at best. To have fresh ideas and the ability to shape them efficiently…what a gift!

But so much of what I wrote over the last four years has been about life’s trials: experiencing my Dad’s swift decline and then his death; and my own bizarre tumor adventure in particular.

More recently, I chose not to blog about my Mom’s badly broken leg and how much she struggled with the recovery (she’s beyond healed now and so happy). Or my concussion last summer (although I have tweeted about it plenty). I haven’t posted about trips I have taken or exciting (only to me, probably) developments in my career.

Ultimately I have not posted about how low I have felt. Because who wants to read about that?

[I know that I am not alone and like a lot of you, I give partial claim to the current state of world affairs.]

But the real struggle is with myself. Adulthood is hard. I realize now that my life will forever be divided into the portion With Dad and Without Dad. Losing one of the two people who made me removed whatever blinders I had on. And it isn’t simply about feeling his absence. I feel the passage of time acutely–for all I know, my life is more than half over (and I only recently made it to Paris for the first time!*).

Photo Feb 15, 6 16 47 PM

Galeries Lafayette

On my darkest days, I find myself looking at my life and feel absolutely crushed about the things I haven’t accomplished, the places I haven’t seen with my own eyes and my present lack of energy to do something about the ways I feel I have let myself down.

Please know this: I don’t feel like this every day and I acknowledge that I have the power and the privilege to chip away at my to do list. I am fortunate.

On better days, I remind myself that Dad would be so proud of me, and Mom still is. And that I live in one of the best cities in the world and get to visit all kinds of cool places. And most importantly, even when I am alone, I don’t feel lonely because I know there is a lot of love in my life.

I hope to write and post more. We’ll see. In the meantime, I’d love to hear how you’ve been in the comments.

*This is simultaneously tongue-in-cheek and sincere.

Advertisements

In Dreams

She comes to me in dreams sometimes.

Aunt Mar is in the kitchen of her old apartment of Parsippany. She greets me cheerfully, casually, as if only a few weeks without seeing each other have passed. If she’s at all surprised to see me, it doesn’t show.

Aunt Mar is making eggplant parmesan. Without looking, I know there’s one portion made with chicken already in the oven because she knows I don’t like eggplant. It is always made clear to me that I am her favorite, just as she is mine.

I am overjoyed to see her, but also confused. Hurt. Angry. Why had she had left me? I was only sixteen. I needed her so badly.

I want to scream “you died! How are you here?” But would speaking the words aloud pierce the veil and make my happy dream evaporate? I am afraid.

What do you think of me? Of this person I’ve become?

Do you still love me? I hope I haven’t let you down. 

Where did you go? Please don’t leave again. I still need you.

I’ll be OK. I just love you so much.

I say nothing. I let her hold me in her arms like the child I used to be.

She comes to me in dreams sometimes. Just not nearly as often as I wish.

Aunt Mar and Jen

Philly

Dad is in the hospital.

In Philly two hours from home.

So Mom and I are also in Philly. In violation of all privacy laws, I will tell you that Dad is getting a pacemaker.

Honestly, I’m more anxious about my impending apartment search and move (note: I am not staying put after all thanks to a big rent hike) than Dad’s procedure. At first glance, you’ll probably think I’m a self-involved ass for that.

But I swear: apartment hunting in NYC is generally more stressful than getting a pacemaker. Weird, right?

I’m approaching Dad’s procedure as a great thing actually. The doctor thinks he’ll feel like a new man once the pacemaker is in. Fingers crossed.

I hope to return to NYC Tuesday. And to blogging soon after that.

xoxo

Update: Dad’s procedure went great.

In my next life

I don’t believe in reincarnation but if I did, I’d wish for…

Wash & go hair. Yes, I’m serious.

Oh, I’d hope for deeper things too. Like a long, healthy, happy life. To be in a position to help others. That sort of thing.

But I dream of not waking up to my Medusa look too.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Oh, I could just wash my hair and go. Let my curls air dry. Feel like Orphan Annie all day. No thanks. I have enough of that in the middle of August when New York is too hot and humid for everything.

Most days, I blow dry my curly hair to the point of being wavy or straight. For me, blown straight isn’t the same thing as having straight hair–it doesn’t move the same way.

For example, if I suddenly decided I’d rather part my hair down the middle instead of on one side, I couldn’t do that without water, a blow dryer and maybe a flatiron.

I know: some people have real problems. But tell me: what do you wish for?

Related posts:

These days

In the past seven days, I have:

Twisted my left ankle, hitting the deck – actually N 4th Street in Brooklyn – landing on my right, previously broken wrist.

Note: this is an old x-ray. I’m skipping the doctor this time.

 

Continue reading