Tuesday, April 9, 2013


Today is the day Cori returns from her adventures in Scotland.  But it is also the day I go to be by a friends side while we celebrate the life of her partner in love.  It is a heavy-hearted day.  It is a beautiful day.

Death is a scary, mysterious thing.  The last time I was at a funeral was in 2009 when my grandmother passed.  We were in Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia, and there are pictures of my family and I standing around and just thinking about my grandmother.  My whole life I've cried from stress, from anger, and happiness.  Watching movies where there's a tragic/emotional moment between a father and a daughter sends me over the edge and I well up with water in my eyes.  But death...  Death kicks into gear something in me I didn't know I had.  Strength.  Few tears are shed, if any, and I assume the roll of the strong, steady shoulder to cry on.  I listen.  I watch.  I feel.  But I never break down like I expect to.  So when it came to my grandmother passing, I missed her and hoped she was somewhere out there in the cosmos, in a happier place, but I didn't cry.  I wanted to, but the strength to be brave and focus on supporting those around me stopped the tears.  It's how I'm wired.  It's how I grieve and channel the swirling emotions.

Which brings me to today.  When I dress in "jascha style", wrap up my dear friend in my arms and hug her tight, I will have that same strong core I always do when tragedy is in front of me.  And I will listen.  And I will watch.  And I will feel.  

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