Distracted

I'm constantly distracted. I start one task and then jump to another. I compose a blog post in my head and it is lost a few minutes later. I go to get something for one child and I end up with another thing in my hand. I start a sentence and I trail off…perhaps I have forgotten how to think, how to breathe, how to write…? I have started and restarted this post so many times...

Remembering…Sammy and Solly at OSRUI

The silence in the room when we walked into the funeral was thick. It was breathtaking. It was filled with pain. I could hear the collective breath…

The snow fell on Sammy's grave and the edges softened…so many shovelfuls...

The room of shiva was never empty...The hugs were never ending. The love was palpable.

I hugged small children. So many of Sammy's friends.
I hugged 8 year olds and consoled them on the death of their friend.
I kissed their sweet little heads and I told them how much Sammy loved them.
I remembered birthday parties and playdates and excursions.
I saw their parents' eyes filled with the pain of knowing that their children will never forget this moment when their little people became mourners.

I hugged teenagers.
So many teenagers.
They feel the pain of death so keenly at that age.
They believe they are immortal -- this cuts them to the core.
I have seen teenagers in grief and it is heart-shaking.
But I felt such a swell of pride in my heart as each of them embraced me.
These are the students we have taught, we have taught them oh-so-well to love and care and bring comfort.

I have never felt such shared grief before. We are all mourners, such deep sadness.
And yet I am the one who types this at 2am, in a house that has one child missing.
Thank God for all of you, God's Messengers on earth who hold me up.

I can't keep up with the messages and emails and texts.
I am overwhelmed with them.
I think it is in a good way.
I scroll through my Facebook feed, my email, my texts... and cry.
My friends, my sweet wonderful friends, who are doing what they do best.
Writing…sharing…posting….and of course, fundraising.
So many posts.
Articles….oh, so many articles.
(Would a good mother keep a scrapbook? A good blogger might have a list of links.)
Sammy is famous.
I can think of a hundred million billion other ways I would have wanted it to happen.

I can begin to understand the hair-ripping mourning custom of ancient days. Outwardly, I look the same. I am not shaving my head* until March. I think that will be the right time. I know I need to wait. (It's also very very cold…)

But there's a piece of me that wishes I was doing it right now.
Today. A huge, painful, visible change…many years ago I gave a sermon about perfectionism. I started out by talking about Yael's head-lice, and how I had shaved her head (and Sam's too, by the way). I said something like, "she is now a bouncing, giggling, bald reminder that we are very far from perfect."

Oh, how far from perfect we are...
Oh, how far from complete.

So this is what it feels like…

*That link is to Michael's St. Baldricks donation page…just to balance out the fundraising…#baldestparentsontheblock - we feel equally helpless…

Remembering…September 2008…the headlice shaving incident