My grandmother Pauline died yesterday. And today her body was cremated. The matriarch of my family is gone, and the world feels a little emptier. She was such an incredible grandmother, and incredible woman, and a great role model. She had so much class and very high standards – stubborn beyond stubborn and always a hard worker. She spoiled me rotten my whole life, loved me unconditionally and sided with me blindly at times when no one else did. I am so lucky to have had her in my life through my mid-thirties. She would have been 87 in two months time. My grandfathers both died when I was three and my father’s mother was a cold woman, someone I never knew well. Pauline was all the grandparent I ever had or ever needed. She was a gem, one of a kind and will always hold an incredibly special place in my heart. I am so grateful she had a chance to see me pregnant and then meet Noah last year. He just recently started saying ‘Bobbe’ (pronounced Bo-ba) which is Yiddish for grandmother. This is what I call her, and this is who he would say hello to on the phone. I am glad she was able to hear him say her name – her first great grandchild. It is painful to know I will never speak with her or see again, other than in my dreams, but she taught me so much and I will tell stories of her always, so that she is alive in our hearts. I will miss her warm embrace, her soft hands, her infectious laugh and the way she called me ‘Lollipop’, due to my renditions of Shirley Temple’s ‘Good Ship Lollipop’ as a child. Dearest Bobbe, your Lollipop misses you and sends you kisses, hugs and love forever. Thank you for everything you gave to us – you were one in a zillion.
Photo below was taken in the mid-90’s. I had just bought a medium format camera and wanted to practice using it.
I received an email that read, “Virginia Rose Kleker. 6.17.77 – 10.08.08. Ginny’s Memorial Service: Monday (Oct. 13) 11am” and I genuinely thought it was a project she was doing, as suicide had been a subject she made work about before. But I was heartbroken to find out that this was true and very real.
My friend Ginny killed herself on October 8th. And it breaks my fucking heart.
The last time I saw her was in June at a recording studio, where I spent the day with Ginny and her fiance John. She seemed happy. I now know she was far from happy.
After the memorial service last week, I lay in bed and wept. I could not stop thinking about what she must have felt in the final moment before she hung herself. Did she feel relief? Did she feel fear? Was she sad or finally experiencing peace? This is what haunts me.
I think about all the wonderful days I spent with her in graduate school. The work we made together that I will forever cherish. Most notably the one hour hug performance we did in the subway. I once told her that she was the kiwi and I was the egg. The kiwi has a rough exterior, but inside it is sweet and has a real bite. The egg has an exterior that seems hard, but is quite fragile, and inside it is very soft. I once walked into my studio to find a golden egg made out of wood. Of course, I just knew this was something Ginny had left for me.
I am all apologies right now. In the should-could-would have phase of the grief. I wish we’d spent more time together before Noah arrived.
My heart aches and misses the kiwi now, forever and always.
The last time I saw her.
A week ago Max injured his back. We have no idea how, or exactly when it happened. But he started having pain last weekend, and things escalated quickly by Sunday evening. For the last 7 days, he’s only been able to stand or lay down. Only last night did he briefly sit, while using some of his yoga blocks in a special upright pose. As far as sleeping goes, he was doing very little of this until his doctor gave him some hard core pain medication in the middle of the week. And that has only enabled him to do so in 3-4 hour blocks of time. He has to get up and walk around in between these extended naps, and finally he doesn’t feel “like someone is stabbing him in the back with a knife.” There have been chiropractors, physical therapy massages and acupuncture. Heating pads, ice packs, biofreeze, new slip on shoes. Making beds on the living floor because the harder the surface the better. Lots of DVD rentals and comfort food. And lots of love.
This guy is my rock. He is stronger and faster than anyone. He can do anything. And it is hard to see him like this.
Going on some shorts walks in the neighborhood with him, I notice he is taking baby steps. He was shocked when an old lady overtook him crossing the street with her walker. He keeps thanking me, and telling me how grateful he is to have someone like me. But I don’t need to hear it.
For the first 4 years we were together, my asthma was severe. My inhaler was practically surgically attached to my hand. I had a nebulizer which I needed to use often, and there were so many medications. I wasn’t very active, and I got pneumonia every winter. There were so many days when he made me soup, and did his homework in a chair, while watching over me, as I lay wheezing in my sleep.
Each time he thanks me, I remind him of this. Like I said, I don’t need to hear it. This is what we do for each other. This is what those vows are all about.
I have a folder on my computer called ‘Camera’. In it, I keep adding images and video clips of things that I want to put on the blog. Like the concerts I’ve been to in the last few months: Massive Attack, Sufjan Stevens, Shawn Colvin. And last night – Jenny Lewis. Wow – they have all been amazing. I will blog about these soon…
That folder also include photos from my life over the last 3 months. I’ve been a busy bee, which is partly why the blog river runs dry. It’s a vicious cycle. Blog about life, or live life and blog later. Hmm…
It’s Halloween today, and I didn’t really feel it much. Perhaps I am too much of a grownup and my life is surrounded by people who don’t think it’s important. I actually don’t mind Halloween, but don’t really like all the things involved. I’ve never been interested in scary movies, I’m not a fan of gore, and I don’t eat chocolate or candy. I also don’t like to be scared, or startled.
Ben told me today that one his friends was attacked last week when she was going home, by two men. They pushed her into her apartment, raped her and then made her get dressed to go to the ATM and give them all the money in her account. They stole her purse, phone and keys so that she had nowhere to go and no way of telling anyone. That is true scary. The kind that really will give me nightmares.
I am staying in tonight. Not even going to the gym. The weather has turned bitterly cold, and the sun went down at like 4pm. I am definitely affected by the change in season and light. I notice that the older I get, the more productive I am during sunlight hours. When the moon comes out, I tend to retreat and want to do very little work. Unless of course I am in my studio. That place I could be forever.
Yesterday I stood in line at the post office or ages. Things were moving slowly, but I really wanted to send off packages to Harrell and Hope for their birthday. They are both born on the same day. So I’m standing there, waiting for what feels like an eternity, and then I am finally at the front of the line. I’m getting excited. And then clerk 1 of 2 decides to take a break. “Not a big deal”, I think, “I’m still next, so it won’t be long.” Yeah right… Three men proceed to jump in front of me, with the lame excuse that they had already stood in line, filled out forms wrong, and that the clerk had told them to fix the papers and get back in the front of the line. After another HALF HOUR of waiting, I was still technically at the front of the line, but nowhere closer to being helped.
I walked out.
And I asked Max to mail my packages for me. He is truly a godsend.
On my way home tonight, I stopped by the ATM to get cash. I got in line, and waited behind two other people. There are 2 ATM’s, so it should not have taken a long time. Person using ATM #1 walks away. People in front of me move to that machine. I now see that person #1 has not walked away, but has moved to stand directly behind person at ATM #2. I ask her if ATM #1 is broken, and she explains she cant get out as much money as she needs from that one.
Yet again, I am in the front of the line, without really being next.
WTF?
It’s the universe testing my patience. I know it is. I remember reading that these quiet moments prepare us for the storms that lay ahead. Or some shit like that.
As someone who lives and breathes according what is fair or not, this has been a difficult 24 hours.
(Overheard in the elevator today)
man: it’s day #2
woman: day 2 of what?
man: 2 of 4*
people in the elevator all snicker and look at eachother knowingly.
*for all my non-American friends, this Monday was a work holiday.
Make Me Sad | 
May 11, 2010 8:37 pm | 
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