As I reflect back on this past week there are several events that bring to mind the preciousness of life. Our week started with my husband beginning a siege of headaches. Cluster in nature, horrific in intensity and devastating in emotional grief. He was Strongly medicated and we moved on.We went on to stand with one of my oldest friend as he buried his wife of twenty-five years. She was fine in June of this past year and dead 6 months later. The ravages of a late stage cancer diagnosis. Right after this horrific funeral with hundreds of people listening to outpours of sincerity and love for this woman, who ostensibly, in theory “got hit by a bus;” – we picked up one of our loves-our three year old dream girl granddaughter and played through our day of mourning. Run on sentence, run on life. Once again the ying and the yang. More of the “as time goes by” moments. Boy, you can never overestimate the medicinal value of hugging a grandchild and watching them run into our lives. I mean, oh well, they put back the wind when it is knocked out of us. Moving forward I had a week of annual tests at my doctors. Always adding one more layer of anxiety and thank G-d relief. My husband then had a bad reaction to the medication he was on to help with his headaches and was told to abruptly stop. We are dealing with the lingering aftermath of that glitch. With all of our issues and “such is life” dealings- we hear the news of David Wich, the young man who was tragically struck by the crane amidst the “whirlwind of a snow storm.” A member of the kids congregation. As Rabbi Lookstein said “an absolute angel.” So I wake up early this Sunday morning about to begin a new week- I make the coffee, check to see that my husband is peaceful, hold my breathe and observe as our week unfurls. Hopefully my sister will be by my side as she was this week, my husband will get relief from the Best medicine- grandchildren crossing our threshold and dividing the ying from our yang.

We leave at months end for the winter. Yes, “our”winter months are here. Not gruesome, actually thrilled, as our world and our lives are so very blessed. With our get up and go we created a world that resonates with Joy and Excitement. Your children run up to our door, check out the pictures that greet them and dash in to hear the familiar – “who’s here?” A knowing place to hang their hat, and know they will enjoy the party. We play, we eat, we laugh, we hug and we start again. Each one has their own place in our very large hearts. Grandpa Ira is their king and Judy their Queen. At least in my story. We make them feel special. They know have their routines of play on which they can rely. We have helped to make memories that are precious and I trust as they go along will remember forever. When we take them to do an activity outside, a museum, a movie, an art project it brings the outside in. Honestly it’s all good- but nothing beats the look on their faces when they come in to “hang” amongst the scattered magna tiles, trucks, soldiers, baby doll and miniature pocketbooks- and one Huge Blended Heart laced with Love. We are blessed and know they are too!

“If you don’t own it the people can tell”- well my dear niece, my blood, you have owned it since I watched you lick ur finger to turn the page as Daddy read the newspaper. You led with your heart. You work the room without intent and win the hearts of everyone. Your smile shines thru your G-d given dimples. You create an aura, a distinctive atmosphere of quality, wherever you go.

It is once again your time to shine. You met your love, the man in your picture show to stand by your side. He is a gentleman, a kind soul and knows what you need when you need it. Grandma and Papa would be proud to know you will share your life with him. He holds his money clip in his pocket and your heart in his hand. We love him too! 

Go forward my dear children – work each venue you stroll into with a sense of knowing – that ” if you don’t own it the people can tell! 

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Just when u think u can widen ur belt, exhale emotionally and proceed with unbridled passion, life happens oxymoronically. The adage of older/wiser, while ever so true plays out as reality with bumps and grinds. You arrive, cross the threshold of we’ve made it this far–and then the interplay of the bold and the beautiful, the ying and the yang and the good and the bad rears it’s ugly head-front row center. So, in fact, u pool ur resources, plunge ahead and prevail thru adversity. Our basic prototype, who we really are remains throughout. With a blend of refinement, delight, growth spurts, moments of decline and sheer luck we float to the top. Go for more, hopefully get “some” more. Voluntarily, we finally use our awareness of what feels better than not, who tickles our fancy and who causes dismay. THEN–u hear a voice say to you-“Judy can u help me put on my shoes ?”–as they walk out the door, art project in hand. —-And then a smile filled with joy of a full day of win/wins. They turn around when you call out “how bout a kiss good-bye?” I wish for everyone run on sentences like this that never end–get repeated often. I was “Smart to Be Lucky.”

Starting tight, inter-woven-young and new with few experiences beyond those of small town life. With time new threads, color, textures, spreading out–the weave looser, stretching, growing; the fabric changing size and shape. There to wrap in if it’s cold. Looser with big, loopy openings if space is needed. But there, always there. Whether in long loose, thin tendrils or tight knots for hanging on-Experiences and life demands determine the shape, the weight, the size, the colors of the fabric that is always there. “The Fabric of Us.”

Whether burlap or brocade-Synthetic or silk, vinyl or velvet, used and abused–stretched to its limit-Comfy and crushed-every now and then-“The Fabric of Us”-gets a new thread. Renewing it’s strength, it’s glow to shine with or without sun.

Fifty years of being there. Not many can boast that. Let’s add a new color, a new thread to-“The Fabric of Us.”

The floodgates open again. Life on Life’s terms-not always in one straight line. When you find the right course through destiny and share a world with your grandchildren that they will always remember-that is as close to wonderful as it gets. You have served your family well. A run on sentence-a run on life. Taking the figurative and literal ball and running with it. Loved, revered- as the feelings and devotion come  with clarity and selfless giving. Grandpa Ira rocks grandparenthood. His lap is never empty, their hearts are always full. I wish this on everyone.

So many of the old adages are now living at my front door. Cliches that I never got, couldnt internalize or just wasnt ready for have now come into play with regularity. Fortuitously, they serve as the bettor at our Mah-jongg table. More forgiving and grateful, less verbalizing differences seems to be our new posture.  We sit down and the magic occurs. First game out we adjust our seat, call on our strategy and throw “the dice.” We leave so much more to chance. No more rebuffing what is, just fact and acceptance feel like the right path to take. We flinch at the first interference in our game of Life–and in turn almost welcome it. A phone call from someone’s kid sharing the joy over their daughter’s ballet recital is typical. An interruption because the deocrator went to the wrong place, perhaps. The bell ringing when the handyman comes to prepare the terrace for planting. We pool our woes and share our joys. Are we lucky or have we turned happenstance into “sheer” delight?

My parents had an activity with their weekly group of couples called “Coffee and…” I am now getting that the “and” was so much more than cheese danish or chocolate babka.

I love our “and.” When I was younger and had a piece of chicken. I would eat the wings last. I savored the best for then. I now sit down to our chicken lunch and go for the wings first. I decided it’s because I cant wait to get back to what we came for. I know that the real reason I enjoy this activity is because it recapitulates my parents activity of continuity. Well here’s to so many more days of Mah Jongg “And.”

Connected by threads of laughter, endured thru distance and shredded by hardships.We are still together as our paths have divided, multiplied and been challenged. As a precious jewel-worn on tender occasions, displayed in a special place; polished and refurbished as needed. Forgiving, generous and embraced, as its value cannot be overestimated. A responsiblity unlike any other, for it is not obliged through birth. It continues, endures-we hold on and question how, sometimes why? Yet to loose it would mean a huge piece of us would perish amongst the rubble of disaster.

And so what is “right” about saying good-bye to a shared lifetime with your father? We love, we share and we come closest to merging our beings with our parents. One day we wake up and we are finalizing the deal, closing shop and spinning into a stratosphere of the unknown. Our father/our life. I say why to a wonderful, long , well-lived life and no more of it. I struggle to find what closure means when you never want to say good-bye with an unimaginable finality. What about wanting another bite of that piece of cake, seeing one more foreign film or giving one more toast at your  table of choice?

Sandy, made the pass throughs-destinations. His enthusiasm never wavered. Whether he was welcoming a grandchild into the world, or showing Francine scarfs to choose from at Chicos- he Gleamed.

We talked in one of our forever moments about days like yesterday. We speculated and even tried to calculate the intensity, the pain. With no warning or handbook for the “grave” emotionality the day offers we become flooded with memories. We want to save the metaphorical buttons on their beloved blazer and in fact the blazer. We’ve celebrated our worlds, we’ve divided our sorrows and our journeys go on. I hold our long, well lived and challenging love for each other in our special place that perhaps only we understand- as no one else is navigating our ship, at times our lifeboat. I wish for everyone that run on sentence that never ends.