these days of leiderhosen

I am wrapping up the official mourning, five more mid day naps should do it, if the tree surgeons across the street ever finish. I promise to be writing again about things other than despair and my sweetly odd sister because sitting in this can of wretchedness has got to become an internal dialog not just an exterior display of raw emotion. Today I could not find the energy to go to work and have instead spent the morning on College Avenue cleaning up my fingers and toes, checking mail, eating breakfast as the world walked by and buying thank you cards as well as emergency sympathy cards. Until this point, I have thought sympathy cards to be a bit bullshit, probably because I never knew what to say. Now that opinion is reversed and any show of sympathy is a good thing even when you haven't any idea what to say. I love the fact that letterpress is making a comeback and original art is being created for it. When I see that Hallmark cards are $4.00 ("$$! *&^#@?!"), I a...

Heather bloomed this decade. Growing up a year ahead of her, I have seen her all sides of Heather and these last years have been a most joyous, successful and happy time for her. In Special Olympics or when celebrating something with her friends and family she was vivacious and free and delightful, the person she was too shy to display to all people at all times. There was great emotion and feeling under her reserve , and what she might not be able to express was still there. We knew that we had to ask about brushing her teeth, that she wanted us to ask. That as long as I have known her she has said goodnight at the same time in the same words, both of us knowing that this exchange means love and trust. With her guidance I fully understand that Food is a marvelous thing, Friends are for hugging, and Public transportation provides a measure of freedom and is a very good thing indeed. We should always have someone fluffy in our lives. Purple should be worn with great aplomb and often, A...

Oh, boy. The Catholic Memorial service was held this morning. We expected maybe 40 people and got about 275, with huge outpouring of Special Olympic participants and coaches. It was unexpectedly wonderful and I got the great honor of introducing them all around to my family who has not met them and got to thank them all and tell them how wonderful they are. Most heart-wrenching was Ruben, who could be called my sister's boyfriend; they were very similar in ability and I think they were great friends with huge unapologetic affection. At the service what he said was so simple and heartfelt and he wept and prayed and really choked my dad up. He gave my mother a little shell bracelet he made for her. Lots of people wore purple in Heather's honor. Scott, Mark and I all gave eulogies. I pinched Mark just as he was trying to start and he announced it to the congregation as: "Mooooom...Heidi's pinching meeeeeeee." I am nearly 40 years old and cannot restrain myself from s...

Thank you all who have contacted me offering support and ignored the fact that I have given up entirely on spell-check or making any goddamn sense at all. Thank you to The Steven who has let me get snot all over his robe. I seem to be losing my keys, wallet, phone and jacket at every turn. If you happen to see my mind hitching a ride by the side of some empty road, kindly dust the lint off, wrap it a bit of pretty roving and mail that fucker back to me. I am gonna need it eventually but entirely understand its need to wander at the present time. Your friend, Heidi

The Obit . This is really, really hard. Da is especially leveled. See you Monday May 28, 10 AM at Saint Mary's Catholic Church in Los Gatos.

Joviality cancelled until further notice. My sister Heather died suddenly this afternoon and we are all quite a mess here. Now that I am nearby the family for emergencies, I am witnessing my mother's broken heart first hand. Very very bad.

Full disclosure on Carlos (namer of all things, science's Adam) now appearing in layperson's jargon today on The Writer's Almanac in the sonnorous inflections of Garrison Kellior. Who knew I'd owe the great love of rhubarb to him?