Oct 20 2016

Early morning
Profound loss and its yearning

WE were together in dreams, supposed to meet someplace at 3 PM but I was delayed looking for parking and a bottle of wine, wine I know little about yet searching boutique deli stores on dug up streets realizing was late and you drove up to find me in a 1950ish Buick with a buffed silver hood hood, painted to look that way, maybe silver like clouds ... you wore a sweater top and pants, dijon mustardy color, looked great on you even as off to me — maybe dijon to go with wine at outside cafe? — you warm and cuddly and thin and we hugged and hugged outside because you'd found me looking for my car and we hugged-cuddled more and more when you stepped out of the driver's seat, (others, too, in back?) and you were thin and looked lovely and we snuggled in the plush warmth of each others arms before we were no longer there.

October 19, 2016, my dear sister ...

Hi my love,

Your, our, boys were here last night, Josh from his Spain sojourn, Danny from Houston, both back to Houston for work there. They'll be in Miami for December holidays, Hanukkah and Christmas together this year.

Was wonderful, unexpected visit. Sam with Will, 5, Josh and Danny, and Curt. Celeste and Miguel, 12, couldn’t make it ….missed them.

And always, forever missing you.

Danny is so talented, had no clue, he in a 1930’s James Cagney voice played with William all night, motions and words like SNL skits, hilarious! Taught rhythm and some piano, too. Stinted dead bear! Ran around outside with doggie Britney joining in.

Have pics to post, not sure how, in other computer. Ah, figured out!!! Good sister.

Carole, on your yahrzeit.  Fourteen years without you.

Our kids grew up, during and while,

the ache of your absence remains.

Love, Hope

Images below from October 18, 2016 at this Nana's house.

Yom Kippur, 2016

Hello my Carole,

Eyes on your picture on the fireplace mantle. Loving and missing.

Sam with Will, 5, and Celeste with Miguel, 12, the great-nephews you never met were here Monday, condensed High Holidays into one night in-between.  Plus Curt and I.  Josh and Danny both away, hope they'll be here in December, Hanukkah and Christmas together this year.

I'd set the table with real plates and a nice cloth without mentioning the occasion  and Miguel asked if this was the holiday for the shofar. William asked what a shofar was I skipped the whole megillah,  saying it was the Jewish New Year and in old-fashioned times there were no party blowers like nowadays and people used shofars instead. The kids blew and blew.

*

Hurricane Matthew missed, thank the cosmos, maybe you out there, too.

Oven just beeped for frozen dinner pizza on Yom Kippur. Treat of the day was babysitting William here, no school.  We had so much fun, made banana splits, his first. Played pirates, he did space puzzle practically by himself, 100 pieces! Ate and laughed.

Image: PUMPKIN cookie with shofar
Miguel and William, October 2016.

South Beach Zika in Daffodils

Monday. September 12, 2016.  Miami Beach spraying with naled, 6 AM. My grandson's middle school in the target zone and my daughter not believing; unwilling to grasp — refusing.

"I turned off our AC while the spraying went on," a young mother had said, her off-stare on the TV screen, camera panning to her toddler's hand.

The color of your outfit, its luxuriant cotton tunic top, skirt ankle length, Your smile and halo of brown hair surrounding on the dock, cheerful like the concentric buttercup circles clothing you. An  exuberant daffodil-like sun, an outer pink rim on ivory cream, you having morphed into yourself from my daughter's gait, she a background commanding the children to keep moving alongside the dock as the water began its shimmer of sunlight the Zika neurotoxin naled supposedly dissolving in brightness while my daughter believing it — safe — to send her son, my grandson, to school even as those planes droned like airborne concentration camps,  their payload swarming the children below.

Maybe you a reassuring angel yet look where that trusting got you.

So there together! With Hillary — history as backdrop ...

Oh, Carole, we were so together ... you in a white pantsuit, not like Hillary's last night at the DNC, she MAKING history, yours was white cotton with short sleeves and you were worried the gardeners would clip too close to you bushes, a take from Curt voicing his concern at meeting with Village of Pinecrest, as in Pinecrest Floods,   http://pinecrestfloods.blogspot.com,  he  making sure our back fence remains intact when they build the wall in back — a wall on porous limestone, what a colossal fuck up that property development is — filling in wetland, sumpland  that had saved us from stormwaters — had protected, and since filled and elevated for mansions, floods us!!! Butchery, a double whammy and now with ZIKA mosquitoes near.  Can you imagine????

Four local cases, meaning not from traveling, local mosquitoes!!!  And the FDA saying S Fla. should NOT donate blood w/o having it screened. 

Anyway, back to us, we talking and laughing, and I was taking a shower at your house and forgot  a towel but had mistakenly taken cell phone, was large, older type and called you to ask for a towel!!!!! You tossed one in ...

Seeing Hillary Clinton accept the nomination was exhilarating! Being with you this morning in dreams an extension ... tangible, touchable. Real. Realized.

Little Genie stayed over nights before and we were glued to democratic national convention on computer, PBS kept going out, Curt bought  new antenna with rotator, PBS practically the only TV station we watch, PBS  and Svengoolie http://svengoolie.com on Sat nights---very old horror flicks, so campy ....

July 10, 2016

Hi Carole,

Mom's birthday and missing you terribly.

Different worlds.

Love, H

There you were

Hi Cole, dreamed (or dreamt?) or had a dream! about you last night, or who knew what time, I was coming around a corner, modern building, you had a slightly bloodshot eye, not uncommon, hair or dust, and were so happy saying, 'I bet toy didn't expect to me, we are all here.' I never made it to who else was there, starring at you,  and I looked and saw and  began to faint and you held me until I reached the ground and awoke, tears streaming.

Mother's Day, 2016

Hi Carole,

Loving and missing you, the chocolates and flowers, and giggles, 'after all we are mothers, too' .... you'd said with that full, generous smile of yours.

Sentience, April 2016

Hi Carole,

Dreaming still.

Does that imply sentience and/or in a life yet undefined?

Thought from feeling, feeling from thought.


This 2009 Apple computer isn't quite right, literally.

Or maybe it is Google with its algorithms,

or the red truck with its leaking radiator.

Or the full Pesach moon without its Seder and you.

_______________________________________________


Passover,  Second Night

Setting sun. Stone crabs ~ oh my goodness, shellfish, divine!!!~ From Celeste, early Mother's Day, late Pesach. Scrumptious.

Curt and I on the patio, fantastic! I imagine you, your gaiety with us.


Sam stopped by to check part for red truck.

Hoping Josh and Danny will make it Wednesday with Celeste and Sam, plus grandkids Miguel and William.

Flux.


_______________________________________________

12:28 Sunday morning ....  a Prince Tribute on SNL ~~~~~ 0h CArole!

Tinkers, March 11, 2016, clockless ....

Hi Carole, I dreamed of you last night. Someone was making a family video, and there was a rocky background maybe touristy like Viscaya with seats molded into the stone and you curled up in a seat-cave and recited a poem perhaps as if to remind me as if I'd need a reminder! 

Maybe you came because I am reviewing the book "Tinkers" by Paul Harding today for a book club today and one of the question it asks is: what is memory and how do we preserve it, pass it down. A Pulitzer winner, 

"Tinkers is about the legacy of consciousness and the porousness of identity from one generation the next. At once heartbreaking and life affirming, it is an elegiac meditation on love, loss, and the fierce beauty of nature."

Time and what it is not, the prose is exquisite.  I cried and cried seeing you.

February 14, 2016. Candies, hugs, warm arms ....

Another Valentine's Day without you... a box of Russell Stover's underneath your picture on the mantel, those old thumbprints; the poem you wrote to Donna when her first husband died, and then she gave to me ... the difference is that you are not lifeless, not mute rather forever present in the years without time.

http://www.extralove.com/carole.html

Untitled

Revisions of home.
Books on the mantel.
Chair of ten years.
Dust, the old thumbprints.

Not unusual,
this life after death.
What connects all things:
either habit,
the daily routine
that binds two people
when one is gone

Or an energy
the survivor sits with
in a dark corner talking;

the spirit struggling
to live through all it had known,
until even
these pieces of furniture

seem drained,
no longer practical?

Answers never come.
Accomplishment
the acceptance
of this fact –

then the slow beginning
of nothing familiar,
changes that had never
stopped coming,
distance and its evidence –

until like a dream of a woman
being pulled back,
unable to continue running,
the memory rolls over
gently, lifeless.

Carole Leslie Marcus, 1977

January 3, 2016

HI Carole,

January 3, 1950 to January 3, 2016 ...

Route 66, the path without solid ground under our feet.

Happy Birthday my other half ... two Russell Stover's with you on the mantel, one a doggie tin, the other a genuine after holiday ... our silly glee in finding.

January 2, 2016

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and tomorrow ... your picture on the mantle ...  love you always