December 28, 2015

Tasty

It's a quiet post-Christmas day at work (half my office is out this week), so I'm reading through some old emails and chats and I came across this fucking gem from Amir from a few years ago:
Ayelet: Jason and I had lunch with [retracted], which was nice. Fuck, I hate the word "nice"--remember Mrs. Lindberg [English teacher] railing against us for using it? But what other word would work here? Lunch wasn't "lovely" or "great" or "special." It was nice. That's it.

Amir: Lunch should be "tasty."
Damn straight.



December 24, 2015

Christmas Eve (who gives a shit?)

We never celebrated Christmas in my family, so I'm one of those lucky grievers not drowning in yuletide memories. Having been lucky to spend several very happy Christmases with Jason's family, I'm thinking of them today, particularly my late mother-in-law, who loved Christmas down to her very core and made it so lovely and special for all of us.

I'm home today--it's grey, gloomy and muggy (WTF, weather gods?), and I'm planning to see a movie tonight so as not to think of all those happy families spending Christmas Eve together with their loved ones. I'm going to spend these four days relaxing, reflecting and taking a breather from life. Grief makes everything heavy and dark, but I'll do my best to relax and enjoy the time off.

I've found a safe place in my sibling grief-support group, among people I consider close friends after only knowing them for a few months. Simply having experienced the same unimaginable pain of losing a sibling, these fellow grief-travelers understand me and my journey in a way that even my closest family and friends can't. (I have sought out a similar group for widows, though I haven't yet found it. Grief is grief, but losing Jason is a completely different type of heartache.)

Meanwhile, our friend Jeremy recently sent me some photos of Amir I hadn't seen (including the one at right, from about 2003). He was so fucking handsome, with big blue eyes, mile-long blond eyelashes and a sweet smile. I'm so sad I won't get to see him grow into a middle-aged or old man. I think he would have been one of those enviable men who only get more beautiful as they age, a la Clooney.

Instead, Amir will remain forever young. My entire body aches every day from missing him so much. It's been 13 months since he left us and I still wake up every morning hoping it was a bad dream. How can it still be so hard for me to believe he is no longer here with us? How can we be a family without him?

Thank you, everyone, for reading this blog and for continuing to remember Amir and Jason--two beautiful souls who will be in my heart until my last breath. Sending warm wishes to all of you for a peaceful, joyful and relaxing holiday and good health and happiness in the new year.

December 10, 2015

What I Miss

Three weeks ago, on the anniversary of Amir's death, his girlfriend Joleen wrote me a heartfelt email in which she shared some things she misses about Amir. I've been meaning to share it here since. Her words paint a vivid picture of Amir in my mind that makes me smile and will stay with me always:
"I miss listening to music and talking with him. I miss hanging out at Club 21 eating tots with ketchup and ranch, sipping on whiskey gingers, and playing rummy.

I miss all the walks. I miss his Michael Jackson hat trick. [Ayelet's note: I will have to describe this in detail one of these days!] I miss his cigarette tricks.

I miss him ordering way too much food at restaurants and blaming it on being Jewish. [Ayelet's note: I laughed out loud at this bit of truth, as did both my mom and Yael when I shared it with them.]

I miss him eating really slowly. I miss gazing at his beautiful face. He was a cutie. I miss how sometimes he'd look up at me and smile this boyish smile and he'd blush and say something funny because I caught him. I saw his love.

I miss him talking about his family. I don't know anyone else that loved his family so much.

I miss every goddammed thing that came out of his mouth.

Here's to a beautiful soul. Here's to one of the funniest people I knew. Here's to the one person that I feel was my soul mate. He always knew what to say."