365 Days

It has been one rotation around the sun since the very worst day of all the 23, 349 days in my life. 

A day I can barely remember except for the searing memory of those minutes before my Debbie took her last breath. 

A day when I magically and blindly drove what remained of my family home from the UCLA Hospital ICU unit, where we had been camped for the previous 4 days. 

A day when the very life force in me was sucked out with all the merciless fury of a fusion-powered tornado. 

A day.

Had we been traditional or religious Jews, today we would be unveiling a tombstone in Deb's honor. But she didn't adhere to those conventions and told me that if she were to go, she'd like to have her ashes scattered at the Upper Grey's Meadow Campground. 

Not her happy place. 

Her happiest place. 

Perhaps my daughters will accede to going on that mission with me, today? Or, perhaps they're not ready to part with her remains, because that would be too difficult. 

I get it.

Not to get all Talmudic on you, and let's be honest rabbinical rhetoric is hardly my strong suit, but we tend to sleepwalk through life and quietly hope the following day will be equally inconsequential. But some days, the ground beneath you sinks, you fall and quickly reach terminal velocity. Gravity has a grip on you stronger than any black hole. 

String a few hundred of those hellish days together and you will have some idea of the pain I experienced after 12/21/21.

However, without hitting absolute rock bottom, which I did, there's no way one can appreciate those days that the universe shines on us: like when you get married, or have a baby, or find a parking spot on Abbott Kinney Blvd. 

I know how completely trite this can sound, like some dime store self-help pamphlet, but there's truth to the trope that without pain there can be no growth. Or in the vernacular of plate-heads, no pain no gain.

And Debbie's passing gave me the gift of growth. 

I carry her light. And make a daily conscious effort to embody her warmth, her calm, her pragmatism, her remarkable ability to speak to a stranger and turn them into a friend, and her patience, which is not at all easy considering the 405, the 10, the 110 and the Gordian Knot of freeways that define Southern California. 

Most of all, I'm trying to be more present. More than I've ever been before. And trying to reflect and savor the time we have been gifted by the gods. And just trying to be a better version of myself.

I debated whether I wanted to write this today. It's a little off-brand and kind of corny, even in my book. I might've asked Deb if she thought I should hit the publish button. She would've replied, "Yeah, why not,  nobody reads your crazy blog anyway."   

Actually, she would've said...

"You write what you want to write. Isn't the point of your blog? Do what makes you happy. I want you to be happy."

I wish you all Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year (Bonne Annee) -- be present for every day of it.

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Addendum: the scarf pictured above, was Deb's favorite. I found it while organizing the closet and the drawers. It's the scarf she wore everyday when we traveled through Europe in 1990. I have made all of her clothing, shoes and belongings available to my daughters and my sisters-in-law. 

All, except this still-lightly-scented scarf.