Letter To A Friend

December 30, 2009

Dear Zach,

I want you to know how much I appreciate the conversation we had... especially you listening to me talk––a lot :) I know it may seem as if I'm doing pretty good... and I am... sorta. The truth is, I'm devastated and just as worried as usual about what the future holds. I hold shit in, I let it out. I smile. I laugh. Then find myself crying. Every morning, right as I'm waking up, my head fills with all sorts of abstract thoughts of my mom, and then I see her smiley, giggling face and wake up. And then I lay there knowing I'm going to get up, open my bedroom door, move about the house, and she won't be anywhere.

G-d, life is real.

In fact, it's so real that it seems surreal.

I reassure myself over and over that everything will be ok. Everything will work itself out. I hear my mom's words filtering through my head. Be positive. Find purpose. Have fun. Live. So I'm trying. And I think I can. But then the fear of me cracking somewhere down the line washes over me. It happened once before––full-on devastation of my mom's diagnosis about two years after the fact. And then it took almost two years to shake that pain. So, just taking history into account, it seems like I could have a relapse at some point. But, I hope not.

In the meantime, I'll be taking things day by day. Which is probably the best way to live life regardless.

I want you to know though, that your mom found me at my mom's service and was extremely caring. I can tell she's a very lovely lady. She looked really familiar, too. Don't know if it's because I've seen her before or if it's because you look a lot like her.

My mom's service was really beautiful. Rabbi Cahana did a wonderful job and Cantor Schiff sang beautifully as always. There were a ton of people, which we knew was probably going to be the case. After the service, a close friend whispered to me that it was snowing outside. And sure enough, it was. A lot. I think whoever was surrounding my mom at the time said to her, "Ya know, we can do some snow (for effect) if you'd like." And though snow wasn't too big of a deal to my mom, I could hear her reply, "Why not!" in one of her goofy voices.

Though it was a bitch for everyone to get home (20 minutes took two and a half hours... no exaggeration), it was still a nice touch.

My mom was a very goofy lady. She had this "character" that she would turn into named Gipp-udy. Gipp-udy the Horse. Her day to day personality was more Gipp-udy than Sherie. She was hilarious. Definitely the funniest person I have ever known. The things she did.... you'd be laughing so hard, your eyes would be watering and your abs aching.

Was your dad a funny guy?

Much love,

Ashley