Tuesday, February 25, 2014


I hab a code in by dose.

It's the first time I've had a cold in almost two years.
It's the first time I've been "sick" since before Sam was diagnosed with cancer.

We just couldn't be sick.
And we just weren't. It was pretty remarkable, actually, how we avoided getting sick throughout all of Sam's treatments. It was all that hand washing, maybe. I think we just willed the germs to stay away so that we wouldn't have to avoid being with Sammy. 

Either way, I feel a little bit crummy.
Remember that cough that Solly has? Yep...he passed those germs onto me.
It's so strange to have germs around...and not stress about anyone's ANC.

(Before you all get all chicken-soupy on me, don't worry, I'm taking good care of myself with tea and meds and water and pick-your-favorite-remedy....)

The reality of reality is starting to settle on me with a great weight.

I catch my breath when I realize that this will never be "over."

There is no "over."

We'll never not have him.
We'll never not be without him.
We'll never not miss him.

It's only been 74 days. It feels like forever is stretching in front of me.

I have to stop myself from thinking about one year, two years, ten years down the road.
My mind starts to tumble, pell-mell, down into that spiral of what ten years from now will look like....and I have to pull back and forcibly stop myself from thinking like that.

I don't know how to imagine it...
I don't want it to be like today.
But I want it to be exactly like today.
Either way, I know it will be whatever it is.
And so I stop thinking about that future...and I just think about today.

In my yoga practice today, I thought about this. At the beginning of class, it stretches out...oh so long. Can I make it through this class today? I'm tired, my nose is stuffed up, my head hurts....okay, I'll just do this one pose. And then the next. And the next...one at a time...until I've made it through...

One day at a time....I can only think about missing him one day at a time.

Today Yael and I did a puzzle. It was missing a piece.
Just like us.
Then we played Stack the States. It was one of Sammy's favorites.
She loves playing it. I love it because it reminds me of Sam.
I told her that.
I hope that helps her love it more.

August 2008
October 2008

January 2009
April 2009


  1. sending you virtual hugs (and soup), now as ever.

  2. wishing you warmth and love. you have a lovely family and the pics are adorable! thanx for sharing.

  3. I love how I feel I have come to know Sammy through this blog -- I would recognize his smile and his eyes anywhere, at any age.

    One breath at a time.

    Wishing you healing.

  4. Love that you keep posting with various pics of Sam at different stages. It's so continuously beautiful to think about him at every single stage, even after he is gone, as hard as it is. I am grateful that you keep sharing all of it with everyone.

  5. Ah, babies in a box. Every family should have this series (see also 'baby in a bucket' and 'baby in a basket.') These pieces are most precious.

  6. If Sammy is the missing-piece, he's joining us all together in one pose as every day stretches into the next. I hope I don't miss what else he will do!

  7. You are very wise. I am so sad that you have to experience all of this-the missing piece, the grief, even the sickness reminding you of what you have all lost. Hugs. One day, one moment at a time.

  8. Colds are never any fun. Hope you feel better soon.
    Still thinking about and praying for you and your family.
    I was wondering--and maybe I missed you saying something about it earlier--if you are going to a support group for grieving parents or going to grief counseling. I know you're a Rabbi and Rabbis are seen as counselors in some respects, but I was just thinking of you and wondering if you're doing any sort of therapy and if you're finding it helpful at all. I know you have a lot of support from all your family, friends and blog readers, but unless they've been through what you're going through, it's sometimes more beneficial to talk to people who "get it." Not saying it will change things, but maybe it will be helpful to hear from people who have been through this and it's now 10 years down the road for them.

  9. Each time I read your posts, my heart breaks. As a mother of four, I can't even imagine your pain. At the same time, your openness, incredible honesty and strength inspire me and all those who read your blog. I feel you and your family in my heart and I know I'm not alone.

  10. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You could have chosen to stop blogging when Sam relapsed. You could have chosen to stop after his passing. Instead you continue to share your story, inspiring many with the power of your words. I am thankful that you choose to continue this blog. http://rabbiweintraub.blogspot.com/2014/02/superman-sam-and-gratitude.html