Friday, March 13, 2015


Sam relapsed at the very end of March in 2013.

Today I spoke at a St. Baldrick's event, and I stumbled a bit. I said, "last March," and then I realized that it's now TWO YEARS ago that he relapsed. I corrected myself and I almost lost it.

Two years.

I am somewhat stunned by this.

We lived through all of 2014 without him. And we're 3 months into doesn't seem to get easier to think about slogging our way through years and years of this.

And yet we do it.

There are birthdays and plays to attend and movies to watch and a couple of fish that followed us home from the Purim Carnival. There are heads to shave and stories to tell. There is snow melting and spring coming and bike riding and so much that fills my broken heart with love.

Sam loved spring because he loved to be freed from indoors, ready to head outside and seek out the bugs and rocks that he loved, ride his bike as fast as he could, feel the wind on his face. When he was a very small baby, I would take him on walks even when the weather was cold. He complained (as only a baby could complain) when he was covered and calmed down immediately when the wind was in his face. He loved the fresh air...

We breathe it in...the renewal of spring that shows such promise this week. The air is warmer and coats are coming off. We breathe it in and I know that another season beckons...another one without Sam...another one in which his life still fills us with love.

Solly wears this coat now.


  1. And me, I always think of Passover seders and frogs--which also occur in the spring.

  2. My springtime Sam moment (and I'm not Jewish, and I don't know Sam apart from you writing about him) is in the Passover aisle at the supermarket, when I see the chocolate macaroons.

    I like them too, just like Sam.

  3. wishing your family only happy times and sweet memories of sam. thank you for continuing to share with us.

  4. everything is different without Sam because everything was different with him; spring is different, different in its promises, different in its life, we're still discovering