Eikev.

This week's Torah portion, Eikev. A good chunk of Jewish theology can be found in these quick chapters in Deuteronomy: the V'ahavta, the concept of welcoming strangers. The overarching theme is love, from a very parental aspect.

This weekend was supposed to be my last weekend before the shit hit the fan at work as we gear up for the opening of the University. I have several weeks of training ahead of me- long days, lots of time away from home. I was planning to relax, take things slow, but instead we drove 5.5 hours south to spend time with his family.

Ari's grandmother is dying.

I have never witnessed anything like this in my life before, and nothing can prepare you for the gamut of emotions of watching someone literally just slip away in front of your eyes.

As we left her, she was sleeping. The shallow, rapid breathing- a strange punctuation like an ellipses to an inevitable ending. She is in and out of lucidity. She's in hospice care, and only has oxygen at this point. As we left tonight, Ari's parents believe it's a matter of hours really.

My heart is breaking to have to drive back tonight- I have to be in at 8am tomorrow. Of course, barring the course of events over the next week, I'll be on the first plane back home. But for now, we drive back, b/c there's not much else to be done.

This weekend has been filled with symbols and portents of death: playing poker with 4's all over the place, an absolutely awful car accident I passed where I actually saw a body covered with a sheet, an out of place crow at the mall parking lot, cawing ominously.

...

EDIT: Post resumed at 1:16pm, 8/10/09. I have had 2 hours of sleep to my name, and am on my 3rd cup of coffee. I'm jittery, I'm exhausted, I'm miserable, and I'm trying desperately to give a damn about my work. It is a stretch.

Ari's grandmother is still deteriorating. We were all convinced that last night would be it, but by 10pm, there wasn't progress one way or the other, so we made the call to drive back to Boston from NJ. I have been doing a lot of writing in the last 48 hours- scribbled in margins, in spare notebooks, in various Word files. It has been my sole coping mechanism.

Like my blog description says: writing it all out, one day at a time.

Nan has been a grandmother to me, and there is nothing that can prepare you for literally watching a person die. Aside from the onslaught of confrontations with my own sense of mortality, this is fascinating, sad, taxing, and overwhelming.

Ari and I are officially writing off 2009. Aside from our trip to Japan coming up in October, and our awesome vacay in California in January, I am done with 2009.

B/c I really can't take much more.