The Power of a Few Good Tears

I awoke today with the sense of an innocent fourteen-year-old. I felt my love's arms wrapped around me. The chords of our song were in my head and I could smell the aftereffects of an August rainstorm.

When I came to my twenty-four-year-old senses, I cried and now I feel oddly peaceful.

An Old Orange Stegosaurus

Today, in my grief, I picked up the old orange stegosaurus eraser that my beloved had given me as a gift in elementary school. It's one of those erasers from those quarter eraser machines every elementary school seemed to have in the early '90s. When I picked it up, I had a flashback to when she gave it to me. I saw her, felt her press it into my open palm, saying "I know you like dinosaurs." I decided to carry it with me today because of that.

Amazing Experience

Sometimes, when you need to do amazing things you get to. Sometimes, when you need to do amazing things you get to, even if you haven't planned on it and even if the person who suggests doing them doesn't know you need to do amazing things. Yesterday, I went to the drum circle event at Rockefeller Chapel as a part of UofC's C.R.A.S.H week. It was certainly a fun experience. Since the drum circle happened right before the weekly carillon concert, we were able to carry our drums up the 271 stairs to the top balcony of the chapel (and also to the carillon room - I got to play notes on the carillon). Having the extraordinary experience of the view from the top of Rockefeller was definitely worth the climb (and the descent). Also, it was an experience I definitely needed to have yesterday, at least in retrospect.

The Unexpected

Memory, sadness, and anger have a tendency to creep up on me unexpectedly. Yesterday, I was asked an innocent question about my familiarity with a certain geographic area, which I answered very succinctly as to avoid any sort of break down. Which was successful for a while, until I got an email at an old account from my love's little brother. I haven't heard from anyone in her family for several years. Much later in the day I could not sleep I was so saddened.

Yizkor

So I ran late to 7th-and-last day of Pesach services at my synagogue on Monday. I am glad I made it. It was not the first time I had said Yizkor for my love, but it was the first time I felt no need to hide any part of my identity or hers in order to do so. I even refrained from breaking down during services, though I did cry when I returned to the relative safety of my apartment. Of all the occasions for Yizkor, Pesach tends to be the hardest for me. Perhaps because saying Yizkor for my love reminds me even more than does the Seder that redemption is not complete.