Buddy Baseball

Every now and then I intend to write something about Liam's life - prior to the last year.  Here's the first one.

 

Saturday in the spring, 7 AM.  "Liam, wake up."  The only person I know, who wakes up with a smile, opens her eyes - and smiles.  "Baseball", she says.  "SHHHHHH, let's be quite.  Meitav's still sleeping".  "BASEBALL", she repeats.  "Liam, SHHHHHH".  But she has her own agenda: "Abba, we go to baseball today".  Oh well, let her speak.  She's too excited.

So I roll her back (like you roll a log), change her diaper, put on her baseball uniform, put on her splints, pick her up and put her in her wheelchair.  After 20 minutes we're ready for breakfast.  Liam was never big about breakfast, but she already talks about lunch:  "Wendy's".  She knows what comes after baseball.

We eat breakfast on the porch and then I load the wheelchair into the minivan.  And off we go.  We're heading to buddy-baseball.  That's where many disable kids have a buddy who helps them (some play without the assistance of a buddy).  The buddies are typical kids who play baseball in little league.  They volunteer to help the disabled kids.  From what I heard from parents of buddies, there's a waiting list to get in.  This is amazing - and wonderful - that these young lads want so much to help kids with  disabilities.  And what do the buddies do?  It depends on the specific disability of the kids they are paired with.  Liam, for example, can do very little on the field, so her buddy drives her chair, picks balls up for her, helps her throw the ball, helps her bat, gave her water (good buddies even wipes her drool!)

The conversation on the way to the ballpark is of few words.  Liam was never a big talker. She repeats the same words over and over again. 
"Glen" (that's her baseball buddy)
Yes, Glenn.  Are you excited to see him?
"Glen"  (she LOVES boys)
Yes, Glen.  Do you want a snack?
"Mayim" (water, in Hebrew....I think we taught that word, along with some other elementary Hebrew, to half the city)
Are you excited about the game?
"Wendy's"
Yeah, yeah, you and your Wendy's...what about baseball?
"I'm hungry".

And so it goes like that for the next two hours or so.  Glen (or whoever the buddy is), not knowing Liam very well, is trying to keep her mind on the game.  I intentionally step aside.  Let them interact.  Every now and then the buddy looks for me:  something goes wrong with the chair or with the water or with Liam's drool (!) or with Liam herself - she's too tired or too hot or too something.

The baseball "game" is not really a game.  There are no 3 outs.  For a matter of fact, there are no outs at all.  Everybody gets a hit, everybody gets on base, everybody round the vases back to home plate.  Everybody gets to do that twice.  The same goes to the "opponent" team - a similar team from another part of town.  We have home and away games, which are all the same.

Liam's favorite parts are:
Warm up - throwing the ball (if you can call that...more of a weak toss) just to see her buddy bends down....smartie...did I mention she LOVES boys?
Hitting off the Tee.  Coach let her hit several times just to see her pleasure.
"Running" the bases - buddy is driving.

Her least favorite:  "Standing up" in the heat (or chill, games were in March and April) of the outfield, waiting for a fly ball (which never came, since very few kids could hit that well, and which she could not catch anyway).  She would get bored and the buddy would have to entertain her until it's time to go bat again.

At the end of the game, all players and buddies high-five all the players and buddies of the other team.  This is Liam's most favorite part of the morning.

And then we're off to the land of chicken nuggets and fries.

It sounds like a lot, but in reality it was always very little.  There's only so much you could do with Liam and she never had too much patience for the non-action parts.  Nevertheless, she would talk about the game for the rest of the day as if she hit for a cycle!  And in a sense, she did - every time she was on the field.

Walking down a steep slope

I'm walking down the mountain.  There's no path - you just try the best you can to find a place to put your foot down.  The walk is extremely difficult.  There are many boulders, rocks, big stones, smaller stones on the way.  There's no way to avoid them.  You must step  or climb on most of them to continue.  There's no way to turn back and climb up - you must continue down, down, down.  Any rock you step awkwardly on can send you tumbling down the slope.  Even when you're trying to just rest for a minute, things are shaky and dangerous.  All the while, I'm carrying a heavy, clumsy, backpack. It makes it so much more difficult to walk and puts pressure on my back. But somehow it also feels "good" to know that all my "stuff" is still with me.
I don't know what to expect at the bottom - is there an end point?  What would the bottom of the hill look like?  Would it be flat and easy or would it turn into a sharp cliff?
Eventually I reach the bottom and take the load off my back. But somehow it's not a relief.  All I find is.....nothing.  One big empty space.  A vacuum, maybe.  I already miss the down slope and the weight on my back.

How does one cope with the loss, with the mourning?

For me, it's helpful to look up-hill at the dangerous slope we walked for the past year.  I'm analyzing each and every boulder, rock, pebble.  I realize and recognize that indeed we had no choice:  there was no climbing back up and we HAD TO stumble on each rock.  And somehow this analysis bridges between the down-slope and the "now".  My annoying engineer brain is trying to find logical explanation for everything.  And this process somehow works for me - I think.  Everything is explained.  For months, while in-and-out of the hospital I've been saying "the writing is on the wall".  Looking back at it from the bottom of the hill up, I can see the unavoidable path now - the same path that I could not see walking down the hill.  And now, that it's all explained, all that is left are the longings.  How much I miss Liam.  Oh, how much....

Another thing that helps me is to be out and about:  to go to work, be around people (who are not involved), ride my bike to the park, go to ball games.  Some would call it denial; I prefer to call it healing.  At the same time, I fully recognize and respect that people grieve in different ways and that what works for me works JUST for me. 

I'm reading about the 5 stages of grief and trying to map at which stage I am.  And I think, just think, that I'm doing pretty good.  Too good, for a matter of fact.  Sometimes I hate myself for moving so fast.  Some would call it denial (here we go again).  Maybe it is, what do I know?  But when I went through an extremely fast similar process with both my parents, it worked out for me.  I don't intend it to be fast - it just happens that way.  The problem with moving so fast is that the people close to me (and society in general) don't move that fast in the mourning process.  That requires extra sensitivity on my side and sometimes to step back into the mourning process, into the grief - just out of respect to others - even though I moved on already. 

But don't take all this the wrong way.  At the same time I'm moving fast, I miss Liam soooooooo, so much, I don't have words to describe it.  And I'm crying occasionally - especially when I'm writing her name - LIAM.  

Missing them hoses

No more oxygen hoses.
No more G and J tubes.
No more drain leads.
No more million medicines.
No more diapers.
No more vomiting. 
No more ICU.
No more ER in the middle of the night.
No more ambulances. 
No more wheelchair. 
No more oxygen machine.
No more therapeutic standers. 
No more therapies. 
No more Dr visits.
No more car ramp. 
No more lift systems. 
No more feeding one teaspoon at a time.
No more walks with Liam in the `hood. 
No more OOOOOOWWWWWWies into the night. 
No more bad back lifting a heavy, floppy body.
No more Frog & Toad. 
No more Curious George. 
No more Poppleton.
No more Templeton. 
No more hospital parking passes. 
No more sharing the TV (it's all mine!!!)
No more "Abba, Abba, Abba" waiting for me on the porch. 
No more Ar-Chu. 
No more Hello-Hip.
Broken sidewalks are no longer a problem.
Similarly are houses with stairs.
And any other non-accessible location. 
No more water honey-bears with a straw.
No more "Mayim" (water). 
No more special utensils.
The special school bus will never stop by the house again, open the ramp, hold traffic, and let Liam down and....."I'm hungry".

I already miss her.


Where did Liam disappear?

Many people spoke during and after the funeral about the legacy that Liam left behind, about her aurora, about the lessons she taught us how to cope with a million hardships and keep on moving forward with a smile on her face; how she loved unconditionally; how to enjoy the moment - not dwelling about the past, not worrying about the future; how to live life to its fullest with a damaged brain and a poorly functional body, but with a healthy, strong soul; and we could go on and on and on....
Liam taught all of us, no exceptions.  Whoever got it, gt it.  Whoever missed the lesson, oh well.  There will be no tutoring sessions, no recorded broadcast.  Our teacher finished her lecture, packed her briefcase, and left the classroom for the last time.


Anatomy of grief
Each one of us grieve differently.  I'm writing here only about myself.
While I appreciate all the people who showed up to condole us, I personally don't feel any need to be condoled, to be hugged, for people to say how sorry they are.  They don't do anything t me.  Maybe I'm an insensitive SOB, but that's how I feel.  Comes to think of it, I'm not really sure I'm even sad.  Nah, that's not right and it came out bad.  Of course I'm sad, but I'm also happy:  I'm happy Liam was part of my life, happy about everything I was able to learn from her, happy of how much I was able to give her, happy she's not suffering any more, happy I have many pictures, happy, happy, happy.  At the bottom line there are a lot more "happy" than a momentary sadness.  I'm sure that I will experience many sad moments in the future, when I'll be thinking about Liam and tears overtake me.  But this will not be grief. 
I don't want to hurt anybody's feelings, but I really don't get this whole grief process.  Is it man-made or is it something built-into us?  (Similar to elephants, who grieve next to a dead member of their family; or baboons, who don't let go of their dead baby for a few days?)
It wasn't easy for us to see Liam's body taken from the house.  Only a few hours earlier her heart was still beating.  But in reality Liam wasn't with us for the past several weeks.  When I'm looking at her picture now, I'm in peace with the separation.  Liam tried her best to stick around; we did our best to keep her.  She left because it was time to go.  End of story.


Thus, perspective
About a year ago, during one of the early hospitalizations, Liam had an MRI done on her brain.  When the Dr came to talk to us about the image, she said something to the effect of:
There's no medical explanation to Liam's brain.  A girl with such brain "should not" be able to live that long, to drive a wheelchair, to go to school, to play on the computer, etc.  Many of the things Liam did was due to her strong character, despite her damaged brain.  To me, this just emphasize more how happy I am about the time I was able to spend with her and further minimizes any attempts sadness throws at me. 

Those who made it possible

TICU

TICU stands for Touch and Incredible Compassion Unit (don't believe the sign above the door, intensive care something.  Somebody who doesn't know the real character of the place designed it).  It is where we spent most of the last year with Liam.  I can't say enough good things about this place, which felt like home for so many nights. 

The beginning wasn't easy for any of us.  We "tried" other floors in the hospital until we ended there.   I'm not gonna pretend that we loved each and every professional we ever met there, but in the big scheme, things smoothed out over time.  Word of who Liam is finally made it through the computer system (I don't know how many times we had to answer the same ____ questions over and over and over again.  H-E-L-L-O, look it up BEFORE you come in, Dr.)  They learned who we are and we learned who the-many-they are. 

Trust and working relationships were built.  But with the nurses it evolved to much more than that.  You see, the Drs you see every so often.  The nurse is right there on the floor, in the room with you.  day and night.  It evolved to REAL care - both ways.  Liam nurses, like the rest of the world, got magically attached to her (I think she's like a spider.  Just laying there quietly, motionless, yet she's able to lure people to er web.)  And we got attached to them. 
 
The one thing I'm sorry about, and it's nobody's fault, is that the TICU folks never got to meet the REAL Liam.  The happy, loves to eat, loves to joke, loves to laugh, loves to love.  They only saw her at her worst.

The goodbye hugs and the tears shed when we left the floor for the last time were genuine.  They were not just sad tears because Liam will never be back there, but care tears for each other.  We feel like they are part of our family - no exaggeration.  

Our door is always open and welcoming, you TICU folks.  Any time. 


Happy new year?
Today is the Jewish new year.  The common blessing or greeting is Happy New Year (how genuine!).  How happy will be our year?  What will life without Liam be like?  Is it even "right" to wish us to be happy without Liam?
I think that in the long run we'll be ok.  We will be happy.  We're happy people by choice.  But ,I'm not sure that the new year will be very happy.

Anyway, this may be a good time to look at the year past and thank all the people who were involved.  Without your help Liam's last year in this world would have been a lot worse.  So big THANKS!


   
        

Sisters

Ever since we returned from the hospital and started the hospice, Liam magically became "good".  While she was masked with the oxygen machine, she did not desat (i.e., her level of oxygenation stayed normal) - strange.  She did not have any infections.  Everything looked so peaceful, perfect.  That was a deceiving picture.  Liam's body was in a bad shape internally.  It was just a matter of weeks/days/hours/who-knows and we decided to end it pleasantly (sorry for that terribly misused word) at home.

Wed, Thu, & Fri (Sept 1-3) nothing was moving.  Liam continued to be very comfortable.  We didn't run out of patience, but at the same time we saw no reason to prolong it - especially since Liam was non-responsive and the decision was made (to let her go).  So on Friday, September 3rd, at 8 PM, we pulled Liam's oxygen mask off and replaced it with the nose-thingy - the way Liam was getting oxygen for several years now - low oxygen flow into the nose.  The difference is that the mask forces oxygen into the body whereas the nose-thingy just encourages breathing and adds moisture (but it won't breathe for you).

Before we made the switch we explained to Meitav what we are doing and what to expect.  Naturally, there were a lot of emotions in the room.  When we made the switch we expected a big drama.  We surrounded ourselves with a few supportive people.  But in reality, nothing happened.  Liam continued to breathe just the same.  What DID change was that now we could see her entire face (for the first time in two weeks); and we could hear her heavy, moist, difficult breathing.  Meitav laid next to her, hugging her, petting her.  And this is how she fell asleep - hugging her dying sister.

Liam breathed fine all night long and into Saturday, Sept 4th.  In late afternoon things changed.  her breathing became slower with more and longer breaks in between difficult intakes.  We and Mr. Morphine just made sure she is comfortable.  it was not easy to watch.  We asked Meitav several times if she wants to go to the other room, but she kept declining.  She hugged her sister and cried, and said goodbye, and petted her, and.....

At 6:40 PM, Saturday, September 4th, 2010, Liam passed away. 
I apologize to the reader, but it seems that my words are failing to describe the moment.  Meitav's love and courage to stay with her sister throughout this difficult, unnatural, impossible minutes - well, I'm not even sure how to complete this sentence....  (dam)

There are many adults who will never experience in a life time what Meitav already knows - and feels.  She's a smart, sensitive, courageous, generous and considerate girl.  She gave a lot to her sister - and received a lot, like the rest of us.  While this is an unfortunate situation, she made the best out of it.  


Meitav didn't prepare any written material for the funeral.  But after a few speakers she got up and spoke spontaneously.  I can't remember everything she said, but I do remember the punch line: "Liam was not a special need child.  Liam was special."  Well Meitav, I think you're special too. I'm so proud of my girls. Oh, the hell with proud.  I'm simply addicted to them.


 

Kashi

Kashi is a yoga studio and much more.  Those who attended Liam's funeral witnessed the Kashi folks leading the non-Jewish part.  Our family life is closely intertwined with either Kashi itself or with the Kashi people. Each one of us have a different level of involvement - some large, others minimal. 

In the past 10 years and especially in the past year, Kashi took care of our family.  They provided care (or just companionship) for Liam, meals, babysitting. rides for Meitav, and many more types of help.  You read in Chuck's speech how Jason-Rudra became part of our family.  Rudra was equal to us in the hospital.  He knows all the nurses and Drs and medications and....well, more than me, that's for sure.  (And, the relationships is a two-way street:  we're taking care of a few Kashi folks or Kashi needs here and there.)

What's with all these weird names?   I can't tell you for I'm asking the same question myself.  Most Kashi people have spiritual names on top of their birth given names.   So I decided to give myself a "spiritual" name too:  Menohug.
So what with the spirituality?  That too, I can't tell you since I'm not a participant myself.  (I simply take occasional yoga classes for the physical benefits only.)
I heard people accuse Kashi for being a cult.  Maybe, what do I know?  But if it is, it's a very good cult.  A cult that is caring and kind and respectful and and not forceful and helping people in need and spreading only good.  I think that after being next to Kashi and taking yoga classes myself there for the past 10 years, I can safely say they are not dangerous.  :-)  While I may not participate in any of the spiritual stuff that's going on in Kashi, I recognize the value of this place to people and to the community.  Well, this is really not an advertisement section.  If you want to know more, you'd have to find out for yourself.  I'm just here to tell how helpful Kashi was - wait, still is, I hear people taking out the trash - in our family's life.  A wonderful place with some wonderful people.

Here's Maha Tara's - another family friend - speech read near Liam's open grave: 


I am Maha Tara
My involvement w/ the Wittenberg/Velinsky family was 1st w/Emma  at a women’s intensive, at Kashi FLA. During intensive it was revealed she needed help w/her kid who had special needs.
Ma requested all the women from Atlanta get involved w/ this kid. And to help out anyway we could.
I was extremely fearful to help due to my lack of exposure to children, let alone a KID w/special needs.
My thoughts were:
I’m gonna help-out with this “kid” I don’t even know?
So I Signed up anyway for visits and general hanging out time w/ Liam.
I showed up on my appointed Saturday, not sure what to expect and thinking Geez…..
What could I possibly have in common, with this “kid”??
Her family was very welcoming, as if I was part of their family. On that 1st day we just hung out and talked, simply getting to know one another.
Somehow the topic of food was one of the 1st things that we talked about and how much we both love food, and especially Pizza, tater-tots and chocolate.
To the best of my knowledge Liam never met a Pizza she didn’t like!
In 2003, she and Meitav walked down the isle as Flower-girls in my Wedding! It was the most endearing event I have ever witnessed.

As our visits progressed… so did my “involvement” with this “KID”!
I got to go to her performances at dance recitals, where she wore an adorable pink leotard and tutu’ with these little ‘mary-jane’, type black dancing shoes…. Cute as ALL get out! SO PRECIOUS!
She once appeared in a talent show were she displayed her strength and agility riding her beautiful –sparkling Purple- Bicycle!  Blasting in the background was the song by Queen, “I like to ride my Bicycle”. She was laughing so hard as rode round-n-round the stage.

It always amazed me how active she was…whether she was Horseback riding, bicycling, swimming or playing baseball, there wasn’t much she couldn’t do.
She and Emma would show up for Saturday YOGA and during it she usually found down-dog incrediblly funny. She would start laughing, in the most contagious manner. It would crack me up every time!


On our visits, we would read, listen to her music, play with the computer, do art projects, enjoy eating foods and walk-n-talk.
My favorite was walking and talking. We would talk about school, friends and her teachers at Mary Lin.
We would talk about her ‘boy crushes’, which sometimes would change after a few weeks.
We would talk the way of her sensitive heart, and sometimes we would not talk at all. Just ‘Be’.
We sang songs as we walked around the neighborhood.
One song was ‘All around the Mulberry bush, and when we got to her favorite line, “POP goes the Weasel”. She would shout it as loud as she could! That nick-name stuck for me. “Weasel”.
She had many nick-names…..Monkey, Noodle, Little, Liami-Salami, Turkey Buzzard and Baby-girl.
All her endearments well- suited, from her simple, funny easy-going self to her feisty, multifaceted persistent-self.
She was a huge presence packed into a small body.

Liam’s sensitivity and keen perceptions were uncanny.
I remember walking in one day feeling pretty low but thinking I was hiding it well…. she took one look at me, and said, ‘aawww, sad’.

So I did find, what commonality I had w/this   
  “Kid.”
It is love and our ability to share it.
I feel incredible gratitude to have been part of her life.
Liam the artist, performer , hardy-eater, confidant, and my Friend.
I love and respect my ‘little family’. They did a great job, with her action-packed, fun-filled life of incredible LOVE.

And….For the rest of my days, whenever I hear the word ‘TOMORROW’……
“TOAD”, will rapidly follow.
I love you Liam- Jaya Darshana-my Weasel!
Thank you and Namaste!
9/5/10

Take me to the river

How NOT to build a dam

I almost made it.  Really.  All the way to the cemetery I was dry.  Most of the ceremony I only had small leaks.  Nothing serious.  But when our friend Chuck performed with his guitar in front of the open grave, the dam was broken wide open.  Not sure why. (Then, the water management engineer that's in me saw all the wasted water, got his shit together, and turned the wheel shut.)

The funeral, in case you missed it, was an "interesting" combination between Jewish tradition and Rachel's line of teaching in yoga.  So there we were, Liam and I, on top of the hill, being attacked by gods from the east and from the further east.  And all we want is pizza [non-dairy, off course] and beer.  But don't be mistaken.  The dam did not break open thanks to neither Elohim not Shiva and Kali and their friends.  It did because 2-3 days earlier, when Liam was already dying, I went for a bike ride.  And I heard three of Liam's songs coming up one after another:
Take me to the river
Bicycles
And some Jack Johnson song that I can't recall.

When I returned home, our good friend Chuck, who Liam loved hearing perform Take me to the river, was on the porch and I told him what I just heard.  So when I heard the modified words in front of the open grave, all dams broke loose.  I cried like a baby.

There were tons of people in the funeral, especially considering the quick sequence of events and the short notice.  While there were many tears, I don't think that the atmosphere was sad.  I, at least, cried out of huge mix of emotions - loss (but not sadness), love, care, seeing the so many people Liam somehow touched in her life, etc.  It's amazing how a girl, which was so disabled physically, was able to infiltrate so many hearts.  A quite infiltration, which did not insist, but also never gave up.  And in pleasant and soft ways.  And these, my friend, are the best ways to conquer.

Sadness
Comes to think about it, I'm not sure what sadness is or how it applies to us.  Sure, I'm not happy that Liam's gone so you may say that if I'm not happy I must be sad.  Maybe.  But I prefer to look at it in a different way:  Liam struggled with her health in the last year.  The writing was on the wall.  We got used to it and somewhere inside knew what to expect.  This does not take away from the sadness, but it sorts of redefines it.  Liam no longer suffers (dam).  She gave it everything she had - literally.  We gave her everything in our power to keep her alive or to keep her comfortable.  What else could you ask for?   She's free now (whatever that means) and she left a HUGE legacy and teaching behind her (we'll get into that sometimes later in this blog, I'm pretty sure).  I think that  all the people who were directly involved in Liam's life were amazed by her personality, her positive and happy attitude, her humor, the light and inspiration she spread without ever knowing it.  All she did was ask for pizza.

Clarification
I have a weird built-in characteristic (some would call it a character flaw, I suspect):  it's not that I don't know how to mourn, it's only that somehow I move forward right away.  Some people might find that offensive.  So if you see me happy, please understand.  Maybe I'm in denial (I don't think so, but if it helps you accept me as such, hey, what the hell...)  don't misunderstand me: I have my moments of tears.  At the same time, I don't dwell on the past or the loss.  I'm happy with the gift I received in Liam (a small dam) and I'm moving forward with what she left me.

Compromise
The funeral itself was a collaboration, a compromise if you will.  I did not want a traditional Jewish funeral.  I could not find the link between Liam's life and a bunch of birded rabbis, who don't even know her, say a bunch of archaic prays in the name of the Jewish faith, not Liam (there's more to the story of my relationships with Judaism in specific and religions in general, but that will come in a later post).  I wanted a ceremony that will represent Liam's life carried by people who knew her first hand.  However, there was a case of miscommunication and I ended up compromising for a mix of Jewish tradition with our wishes.  I'm not sure I'm happy about the role that religion DID play in the funeral, however, I was very happy with the compromise.  Not just the compromise I personally made (for the family, by-the-way, not for the religion), but the fact that Jews and Christians and Hindu and who-know-what-else all stood together and respected one another. 
Such a thing could not have happen in Israel, for example, where the ceremony HAVE TO be Jewish (by law) and where the orthodox rabbi probably won't approve gays and lesbians and Yogi masters to take part in such ceremony.  Compromise, that's the secret to world peace.  I ain't joking.  I'm very proud and thankful to all the organizers and participants who simply accepted and respected each other.  Sounds simple, right?  Well, if it's so simple, why do we have all the wars in the world?
I know I diverted from the subject you came here for.  But Liam was part of me and this is who I am.

Chuck's speech and song

When Rachel asked me to speak about Liam, I thought about sharing one of the great stories we have had over the years, like the day Liam ran away and had Rachel and I running all over the neighborhood looking for her, but I kept coming back to a profound statement that Rachel had made at Liam's Bat Mitzvah.  The tradition of the Bat Mitzvah required Liam to do some type of social project.  Rachel said that Liam's project had been all of us all these years.   It made me think about Liam's great purpose in life.

I met Liam when we moved to Hardendorf in 1998.  You know how when you meet someone, you can look in to their eyes and see either their lightness or darkness.  Liam was this spectacular little girl you had ever met -  not because of the wheelchair or the physical limitations, but because she had the brightest light you had ever seen.  This glow, not her wheelchair, attracted everyone to her.  Even the kids surrounded themselves around her.  I had to great pleasure of watching Liam and her sister grow up over the years.

But what was Liam's great purpose in life?

Let me digress.  I have always seen the god's in heaven with this big jigsaw puzzle, piecing them together, each puzzle being our lives.  We never know what the picture is going to be until they have finished with the puzzle.  They connect the pieces over the years and we just fall in to place.  Here's a piece where Chris and I move to Hardendorf.  Here's a piece where we bond with Asher and Rachel and become friends.  Here's a piece here, and a piece there.  The god's try to put a piece in where Chris and I moving away, but the piece doesn't quite fit just yet.  Here's a piece where I meet a guy named Jason at the gym who has so much darkness in his eyes.  I get him to come to my yoga class.  Here's the piece where he connects with the Kashi community.  Here's the piece where Jason, now Rudra, meets Liam at Kashi.  Here's the piece where Chris and I move from Hardendorf leaving this space for Rudra to fit in to the family's life.  Here is a piece where Rudra becomes Liam's best friend.  

Rudra once said that I had probably saved his life when I got him to come to that first yoga class.  He was wrong.  I was just part of the puzzle that was putting him with Liam.  Liam saved his life.  When you look in to his eyes, you now see a piece of Liam's light.  In fact, look around, you will see a piece of Liam's light in every one of us.  

Liam's  puzzle is now complete.  We see the full picture.  Liam's greatest purpose in life was to share her light.  We were her great project.

And a small part he wrote but didn't speak out (dam):

We have all learned from Liam.  She didn't live in the past.  She didn't live in the future.  She lived in the present.  You can't live fully unless you live in the present.  How are you going to use that part of Liam's light that she has shared with you today to live fully?

And then he played the guitar and sang (while I....dam):

Don't know why, nothing I can do

All the things, that you put me through

Love is a notion, I can't forget

My sweet Liam, I can't forget

I wanna know, can you tell me?

I want to know!

Take me to the river

Wash me in the water

Take me to the river

Wash me in the water

A dam

I was born and raised right next to where the Jordan river starts in northern Israel.  Right next to where I used to live there's a small dam that helps diverting the flow of the river between two routs (the natural one and a man-made canal).  It's a manual dam with a big wheel that opens and closes the shutters.  

Whenever I feel emotional and that tears are about to wet my eyes, I'm imagining myself at the big wheel, turning it to close the dam.  Many times, I found, it really works.  I'm holding the wheel and the tears are kept in bay.  (Not that I'm afraid of crying, but I hate to keep boasting CVS` tissue sales.)  But sometimes even when I'm turning the wheel, tears are still flowing down my cheeks.  It's like those thorny blackberry shrubs, or a dead nutria, that used to get stuck inside the dam's shutters, preventing it from closing completely.  So if I will refer to the wheel every now and then, you know what I'm talkin` about.  I will say (dam) and that means that I'm holding the tears at bay - have a Clean-ex handy.

Shiv`ah

Before you go screaming "what, another Hindu god?"  the word simply means the feminine seven in Hebrew.  It is also the Jewish tradition of sitting and mourning for 7 days after a funeral.  We, however, will not sit for 7 days.  Three will be enough, we feel.  We sat together with friends and family during Liam's last days.  It was sort of a Shiv`ah.

Schedule:

The shiv`ah with the family will be on Monday & Tuesday from 1:30pm - 3:00pm and then also from 5:00 ending promptly at 8:00pm.   Also on Wednesday from 5:00pm until promptly at 7:00pm.

Rachel wrote:

For people unfamiliar with the tradition, typically, come in, greet the family, and then sit quietly.  This is a quiet, almost meditative space (it's not meditation.)  If the family starts to talk to you about Liam, feel free to share with them your memories.

...but I have to disagree, since I'm her husband:  I hope you will find us NOT sitting quietly.  I hope you will find us eating and loughing loudly - just as Liam would like.  

Also, please don't come with the intention to be sad or to cry on my shoulder.  The purpose of the shiv`ah is for people to support the family, not to be supported BY the family.  

Lastly but most importantly:  do NOT, let me repeat that, do NOT, hug me.

Where to come to:  here