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

1 Comments:

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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