here.

well. it's friday night in erie, pa. this week has found me submerged in something like my life, but without the daily fidelities to feel like foundation. no school. no work. no vacation. just this. i've swung between sad and numb and feeling guilty for once again being the girl with extenuating circumstances. however. this is where my whole world is right now, and although i didn't expect erie, i'm here. here. and it has been a gift, really.

i've gotten to see mom a lot, and talk with her, and eat with her, and watch spiderman with her. and time with mh at her favorite haunt today, joking and chasing the sadness away, was good for us. and the pricelessness of seeing my best friend, shannon, four months pregnant...we've seen so much together. it is good to be here.

...but hard.
xo.

pennsylvania

i'm about to hit the road, taking the 65N to 71N to 271N to 90E route to erie, pa. it's a long drive. however, i've got plenty of cds and even a mini-cassette player, should i have any fantastic inspirations for the great american novel. (i'll let you know how that goes.)

aunt mary helen and i (and maybe even my mom!) are going to celebrate uncle jack together. we'll seek out iron city beer and maybe some good burgers. sounds good to me. let's keep each other company, i'm thinking.

i told nichole via email yesterday:
i'm praying for perspective...to not let the sting of death steal the depth of joy that is still present. there is so much that is still alive. like me.


jane siberry:
we're tryin' we're hopin'
we're hurtin' we're lovin'
we're cryin' we're callin'
because we're not sure how this goes

(forward, ever forward...)

uncle jack.

from my journal:

Tuesday, March 20, 2001

Well. I was wordless in florida. And the second I left I found myself feeling the oldest and youngest I have ever been in my life. And I’m not sure if I will ever get my words around the myriad emotions, visions, joys and sorrows I experienced this weekend, but. But. It was good. Uncle Jack is a beautiful old man now with boundless energy. And his ‘oldness’ broke me initially. As did aunt rona’s. but jack was like a boy and rona a mom, and their white hair and wrinkled faces disappeared moments after I arrived. Uncle jack’s blindness has made a lot of the dailies hard for him…and I got to help with the little things. Like programming the keyless entry code to his new car. Or helping him cook dinner on the grill. Or getting the beer. Or changing the blade on his razor. Just like bessie glass’ “consecrated chicken soup” I felt like I got to be a part of the consecrated changing of the razorblade. Uncle jack and I went to mass together, and during the sign of peace, he kissed me on the lips. And when I left them yesterday, aunt rona packed me carrots and grapes, uncle jack slipped me $60, and they stood outside arm in arm and watched me go. And my mind’s eye, that perfect camera, will NEVER forget seeing uncle jack wave to me, smiling like the sailorsuit boy pictures I scavenged from the attic, just smiling and waving, blindly. My uncle.

uncle jack died today. i found out about an hour ago. and all i can do is make phonecalls to the people i love. uncle jack died, i say, then i have to hang up because i can't say anything more. and maybe i'm too raw to write tonight. i probably am. God rest him.

she said, "ow, that really hurts." and she wasn't just complaining.

ow. still really sore from the four-hour, intense riding experience on a horse that is not my own on saturday. we're talking painkillers-and-stay-in-bed sore.
i have bruises in weird places, and it's hard to write just yet.

...check back later, please.