Friday, May 21, 2004

Crying on the 405

Ever since Ariel died, I find myself crying in the most unexpected of places. I remember the last year of Ariel's life. I drove him to pulmonary therapy three times a week. I drove him to his medical appointments twice a week. If he was strong enough, I would drive him to shul or to a Torah class. Sometimes we would listen to Jewish music--The Miami Boys Choir, Shalsheles, Mordechai Ben Dovid--and Ariel would tap his hand against his thigh. I remember at one point thinking that Ariel might not make it and the song I'm listening to will always be associated with that unbearable thought. And now, in the car, I don't have to put the music on. I hear it in my head. I see Ariel out of the corner of my eye. And I drive on the 405 with tears pouring down my face


Anonymous mortgage broker said...

like tumbler and tipsy days hopefully we will remain in high spirits. well, good day

December 23, 2005 at 3:50 PM  

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