Saturday evening: First night at Chautauqua. Sitting on our second floor porch, after putting Julia to bed, sipping sweet wine, listening to an orchestra play at the right-next-door amphitheater. This may not be everyone's idea of heaven, but it comes pretty close for me. I have been longing for live music, but would not have gone to this concert tonight because we are exhausted after driving all day and needing to set up our quarters. Julia needed to be in bed sometime close to a normal time, and I don't know whether I could have roused myself to walk even a few minutes to sit in a theater, but to relax on a porch after sorting out our stuff and tucking in the kid -- ah, perfection.

Friday: Spending a day with Jan at the Buddhist Shrine. Talking and listening as Julia drew and colored. I did not take a picture of her sprawled out on the floor in a corner of the very beautiful main shrine and I don't know if I could have captured what is so vivid in my mind's eye. Julia, butt up in the air, coloring in her bird book with crayons and markers forming a circle around her, amidst the whiteness and intense colors of the shrine. I cannot find a picture to post here and now really regret not taking my own. I would not have captured my vision but I could have had some record to remind me.

It was good to spend time talking to Jan. I find his rather new life at the monastery is somewhat of an echo for me. I am not at a monastery, I am not doing something completely new, but I am taking a detour from what I have known. I am dedicating a year to a retreat of some sort. My year of lying fallow. It felt like we were talking about doing some of the same things. And we both are hoping to use this year to shed some light on the years to come. Our talking invigorated my purpose and design, especially after the two funerals and the socializing afterwards. Too many times, I was asked what I was doing and what I intended to do. I don't mean that I was judged or criticized but my own resolve, my own purpose was shaken somewhat as I tried to explain myself over and over to my well-meaning family.

Julia and I did some strong sitting for Jan. I wanted him to critique and comment upon our practice, as someone who has had a meditation practice for a longer and more intense time. We did it in a room that is used as a teaching room. Jan offered one suggestions - to cross the right arm or leg over the left. He has been taught to do this as part of the tradition. Something about the life force having access to flow more easily. We shall try this.

Pictures from a visit to the Central Park Zoo on Thursday.

Pictures from a visit to the Central Park Zoo on Thursday.

Incredibly, great sign on the departure side of the Williamburg Bridge. I love it!

A park in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, Wednesday evening after the second funeral.

In a sense this is such an ordinary picture, but whenever I see Julia climbing like a 10 year old, I remember when she first came home and could hardly climb stairs let alone a jungle gym.

A few very random thoughts:

I look at the calendar and try to adjust my perception that Sunday to Thursday was only four days. Time expanded to fill decades -- okay, at least a few weeks. I find that thoughts of Virginia and Maryland are in the "distant memory" file in the mind.

Beginning yesterday, or at least in my perception beginning yesterday, I am a single parent. A definite shift. I have been uncomfortable with this label for the past year. I have desperately wanted to share the responsibilities, the joys, the worries and the sorrows. I have not always been aware of my desperation but had I an offer to partner for parenting, I would have jumped at it. And then, yesterday, while Julia and I were showering, a calm spread over me. It was a laying down of defenses, a giving up and a taking up. I have been using the right words with Julia for months and maybe this is an example of fake it until it becomes real. Maybe it was the loss of my final parental figure although I had never leaned on my parents or even asked their advice. But somehow I have released David from the task of parenting Julia. I have become ready to do it on my own.

Julia is reading signs constantly! Cheshire did this at 3 and 4. Julia is doing it at 10. My breath is taken away by Julia's tenacity. I am so very please and so excited for her. There is a world of words out there, in here, just waiting for her.

Two funerals in two days. It is hard to remember that the funerals were not the reason for being on the east coast. Hard to remember that this is a vacation and that this week was meant to be lazy with visits to museums and walks in New York and long talks with Cheshire. On one hand, I was returned to last summer -- the days of living in the present without effort, and communion with people who are not always a part of my day-to-day round. The reminder of family and community touch me deeply. I am grateful for their simplicity. And I intend to hold on to these rediscovered cousins and my remaining elders.

Cheshire, Julia, and I arrived at Cheshire's apartment at supper time last night, exhausted to the bone from our funeral days, stuffed from the "lunch" after uncle Walter's funeral (Is there some relationship between funerals and over eating?), and antsy to do something physical. We took a Brooklyn walk and settled into a movie, snacking on fruit and drinking gallons of water. Julia stayed up late and I got to bed just a bit after she did, sleeping long and hard.

This morning, the Central Park Zoo is on our plan and then a drive to Woodstock, New York, to visit Jan at Karma Triyana Dharmachakra, a Tibetan Buddhist monastery, where he lives and works. I have an impulse to write "Back to the vacation," but possibly what would be more appropriate would be to thank the universe for the privilege of being in this right place to honor the two men who died this week and to have another part of this journey to experience before returning home.

26 July 2011 evening

As bazaar as it might sound, we have another funeral to go to tomorrow. David’s Uncle Walter Sarvet died last night. He has fought Parkinson’s disease for many years, and his death does not shock but the timing is unnerving. As if there is a tear in the fabric between the planes of existence and room for another soul to pass from one world to the next. Existence feels so very fluid and life very, very fragile.

We will travel out to Queens tomorrow after Cheshire collects some of grandpa’s record collection. We will listen to another Rabbi pray and sing. I will think of how it would have been if David was here, doing these things, going to these places. And I will feel as I feel. Here. Now.

Last night, we were asked if there were any words any of us would like to say at today’s service. I forgot all about this request until an hour before we needed to leave today. I know I frustrated Cheshire with my forgetfulness. I jotted a few notes, and said the following:

I want to share two small parts of Dad that I will carry with me always.

The relationship that he had with David. It was a relationship that deepened and grew through the years. David and his father shared books and movies, ideas and opinions, and pieces from the New York Times which arrived at regular intervals in our mail box. Dad did not always understand David’s choices, but I hope he took real joy from David’s achievements because David always wanted to make his father proud.

Dad loved his grandchildren. He doted on Cheshire, worrying about her choices, applauding her achievements, and always wanting to know what was next for her. He wanted always to be a part of her life. And I heard, sometimes through David, all about Wendy and Michael -- their lives, their partners and most recently their children. Dad took a lot of joy in this younger generation, I think more than he expected.

Dad was curious and kind, generous and gracious, intelligent and interesting, and I was so very fortunate to have him in my life for such a long time.

David would have been more eloquent, his text would have been richer, but I do what I can and honor both men as I am able.

At the service and at shiva at cousin Ilene’s house which followed, Julia behaved very well. She was quiet, she listened to what was going on, she did not fidget or act bored, she did as I asked. When she was able and had my permission, she colored, played with lego, and played with her leapster. This is not easy for her. I know that. She knows that I am pleased but I hope I can find something really special for her in the next days.

I know I’ve written this before, but I had wondered how to spend this week. How foolish this wondering. Life, the end of it and the celebration of it, rushes in without thought to my wonderings.

26 July 2011 morning

Tuesday. Cut off from the tedium of the day-to-day schedules, I am beginning to lose touch with day names. Is this close to the world that Julia lives in? But she is working towards recognizing day names and dates, not leaving them behind, if only for a short time.

Today is Dad’s funeral. Even on contemplation, I emotional brace, straighten my back, raise my shoulders when I need to let it flow through me. I want to let it happen as it needs to, offer comfort and goodness to those who will be bringing hurts and anger and resentment, and accept the comfort from those who have it to share. This is a tall order for me. Maybe better to call it a prayer.

I question the universe, but accept the blessing, of planning this time, the few days of this week, so loosely. I am not saying that I saw this death happening and planned my vacation trip accordingly, but I simply followed the impulse to connect the week with my sister in Virginia and the week at Chautauqua with some time with Lisa in Maryland and then days in and around NYC with few plans. I had thought of a few walks in the city that Julia and I could do, a few museums that we might visit, a show, but there were no tickets bought, no plans to see old friends, very, very little to change to accommodate this death. No jarring and abrupt change of course, just a folding in, the chance to accept, be present, and not add to the hill of regrets or resentments.

I have some anger and sadness that Dad did not see me in Florida. I could have used that gift of a last visit, but we have talked on the phone very often in the year between David’s death and his. At times, I believed that we were building our relationship, although I also believed that I was only a sharp-edged reminder to him of what he had lost. I believe that David’s death resurrected memories of David’s mother, Inez’s death and his mourning her. I may be wrong. Maybe not. I had hoped that in time we could have talked about some of that, talked about moving on from the death of a beloved partner, talked some about David’s life and his perspective on that life. When I did see him last fall, it was for a short time and with his wife, Claire. Anything about David was far too raw for me to examine closely and everything was fodder for Claire’s complaints and bad humor. And so, we talked of the inconsequential and mundane. I need to take a lesson from that and not carry the regrets of subjects not broached.

Cheshire drove from Maryland to New Jersey -- one of the shortest legs of my journeying, but a leg nonetheless. Lovely to sit in the passenger seat and offer conversation and advice. Julia puttered away the day -- leapster in the car, then coloring and clay all the rest of the day whenever we were not moving. We did a bit of math work in the afternoon, as we passed time at Uncle Harold’s house. I need to depend on her ability to amuse herself today as well. Her behavior has been quite splendid overall, not perfect by any means, but then she is a kid and herself.

Last night, after suppered at a Thai restaurant with Uncle Harold, we stopped in a fancy grocery store to pick up a few things for breakfast. At the check out line, Julia noticed a funny stuffed dinosaur on top of one of the registers. She wanted to touch it but accepted my refusal to bring it to her easily. She did like what it looked liked and was talking about it. The store was quite empty except for another customer who was checking out an amply filled basket in front of us in line and we had to wait. A manager came by, asked staff to open another register for us, and then engaged Julia in a bit of conversation. She directed him to the dinosaur and he took it down and gave it to her. I thought to hold and examine, but he meant her to have it. It was very sweet. She was so happy. And I think, so was he.

The new dinosaur, whose has been named although it is a made up name that I have not retained, was tucked in bed with Lizzy when we got home and seems to have rested comfortably. Julia told us in the car on the way home that the new dinosaur was feeling badly. In other circumstances, I might have pursued that a bit -- wondering if the feelings were related to adoption and a new family -- but I let it go. Not appropriate timing.

We are staying -- Julia, Cheshire, and I -- with Uncle Harold, David’s mother’s brother. I took him up on a long held invitation to stay with him when I was out east. I have known him and his wife, Lois who died a few months before David last year, for 35 years, and although we visited them when we could, we never stayed with them. And although I had planned to have dinner with him on Monday before Dad died, I had planned for only dinner. Once again, he offered his house to us and I accepted. So, after our drive we spent a very quiet time -- two meals, some lovely time on an enclosed porch which I had never noticed before (I am sure it is a relatively recent addition to the house, but I guess it could be 15 years old. Did we always visit in winter? Possibly.) watching and listening to the rain and talking, and watching Harold work his potter’s wheel. He demonstrated making a bowl, a cup, a vase, and a small closed piece, and we looked at his sculpture. Julia was enthusiastic at times, and then at times, lost in a sculpture book that Harold was using for reference. He has a kiln as well so is able to go through all of the steps of the process of producing pieces. What fun and how lovely. Made my hands itch to do the same. I did, at times, have to keep a firm hold on Julia. I knew her fingers were itching. It is a hobby of his, taken on after retirement, but the work satisfies him. He is very happy doing it and it is pleasing. The work gets more interesting each time I see it.

Note: The new dinosaur’s name is Lukey.

Before Julia went to bed last night, she said good night to Uncle Harold. She asked how his heart was feeling and if he would live. She does it in an quirky, disarming way. The questions seem to come out of nowhere but I know her concern.

It is impossible to fathom the ways of the universe. I am only human and so much is hidden from me. From us. This morning my father-in-law died. The past year had been awful for him. I don't think he ever found peace after David died. His wife has become more and more demanding. And last week, he moved into an assisted living facility which was a fine place but not his Jersey home of 55 years. I think it was a quiet death, quick, and if painful, not prolonged. A blessing.

Last night, we -- Cheshire, Julia, Lisa, Nick, Sarah, and Michael -- buried most of David's ashes in a wonderful bamboo grove on Lisa and Nick's property. More on this later, but the process was very good for me. Lots of peace.

And then this morning. He was 93. He has a good, long life.

No more words. My last parent. Separation and endings.

Yesterday's water pictures.

The pictures are not the best but the tubing pictures were beyond the real scope of my camera. Still, blurry or not, the capture a bit of joy. Julia was found by a little girl, Angel, who decided to play with her and after much swimming and hunting for critters in the shallows, they enjoyed a tube ride.

Vacations don't seem to be entirely easy for me. For us. Two bumps today which are not devastating but do give me pause.

I was supposed to visit my father-in-law on Sunday. He and his wife have moved to an assisted living facility in New Jersey. They needed to do it. His wife cannot climb stairs and it seems really cannot manage with a good deal of help. I imagine these things because I have not seen them in more than a year. Dad is depressed and feels like he has been put out of his house. He needed to get out of that house years ago. His wife has always been very hard to deal with. From what I hear, she is only more so.

So, although once again, I planned a visit weeks ago, and talked about it a number of times, he decided today that I should not visit. I know that this is not personal, but personal or not, he will not live forever and any visit at this point could be the last for either Dad or his wife.

I just need to let go of it. "It" being what? The connection with David? The connection with all those married years? When I remember how much I have lost in the past few years -- both my parents and David -- it should not be surprising that I am not ready to sever connections with David's father. But it may just be time. I may just not have the choice.

The other bump, which I don't want to say much about, is that any idea of moving to Maryland within the year us quashed. Maybe two or four. Maybe.

Switching subjects.

It was somewhere over 100 degrees today, so in the afternoon, we headed for a near-by creek for sitting in or near the water, playing in the sandy pools, tubing, and swimming in the deepest and coolest water we could find. Staying wet, and in or near the water kept us so cool. There was a point where I forgot how hot it really was. Another little girl found Julia and the two of them played for a long time in a shallow, sandy pool, looking for tadpoles, little fish, bugs, and rocks. It was a delight.

When we got back to the house, I put Julia right in the shower. She usually doesn't take showers, but I wanted her to wash off and didn't want to go through a bath. She just took off her bathing suit and I put her right into shower and soaped her up, washed her off, and let her get out. And ya' know, she didn't even seem to mind.

We are in Maryland and it is sooooo hot. No central air and I admit to being way too spoiled. Plus, the heat leaves is doing a number on my sinuses. I could sleep and vege out all day, which would not be bad except it is not a good thing for Julia.

Of course, at present, Julia is reading through a pile of dr. suess books. I was going to do math worth with her but she found a stash of suess books at Lisa's and is on her third book. So, do I move on to math or let her keep reading? Oh, I am lazy enough to let her just keep reading.

More farm pictures

This says it all! Julia on a horse -- forgive me, Barbara, but I forget whether this is Dan or Lindsey -- sitting up straight, looking pretty fearless.
We joked that "farm livin' is the life for me," but I think that the incredible log house is pretty incredible sitting in the lovely hills and valleys.

Julia loved this little . . . uh, truck, jeep, golf cart, run about. We rode through fields and to the barn and to visit Ruby, and to the woods.
Julia and Leeanne rode in the back of little truck. Julia complained, yelled, and loved it.
So, not so much but complaining about the walk in the woods.

A stick helps.

19 July 2011 (evening)

It was hot today, although I heard through Ed, my contractor, that there is plenty of heat in Wisconsin.

From Ed: The furniture is out of the house. The movers ripped the leather on my leather chair. I suspect we will figure that one out but they are insured, so a fix is in order. The floor is sanded and staining tomorrow. Depending how that goes, the floors will be finished Thursday or Friday. Painting will begin Tuesday of next week. It will be Ed’s task then to get the bookcases built and in before we return. Can’t wait to see it all!

Early this morning Julia and I worked. We did strong sitting, and I vowed to do it ever day possible for the journey. She has much more control over herself with the sitting as a basis. Then we did some math work. She arranged her tiles up to 60 today and counted by 1’s and 10’s by herself. She is getting better at 2’s and 5’s. We did morning parade and she seems to get “between.” I am ready to introduce before and after. I had a few workbooks to do a third activity and she picked the word book and did two pages of beginning sounds.

We picked blueberries this morning and early afternoon. It was pleasant, sweet, quiet, work. No overseer or owner to even check on our work. We took pails out of the box, filled them, put the money in the same box, put the berries in the plastic bags provided. We picked two quarts to take to Lisa’s. We ate along the way -- sweet and tart, just lovely. Julia helped with the picking for a good deal of the time and then went to the end of the bush row to catch grass hoppers. She caught a green one and a white one. Was the white one a grasshopper? I am not sure.

Julia has eaten a good lunch for the last 3 days. Farm living? Also, tonight at supper at a Chinese restaurant, she ate like she was off medication.

We visited Karen and Bob, old time family friends from Jersey days, who are very friendly with Barb and Steve, and who now live in Virginia. I brought Julia’s clay which she has not touched since we left home. She had a good time playing with it for a few hours. Leeanne was with us again today -- she is a dear girl, attentive to Julia and sweet to the grownups. Still, not a creative bone in her body. She had no interest in the clay although she watched Julia in amazement.

Karen has become obsessed with her family tree and has been willing to share what she knows with me. She also translated some of letters written to my grandmother from the 1920 to 1959. There are not that many but they have been a mystery to me as they are written in Ukrainian and French. Karen has the ability to read in both languages which is lovely for me. I have long wanted to work on a family tree and as I go through the remaining boxes of the past, I can put things aside to help me with this project. It will not be quick work.

Interesting thing about Leeanne spending the time with us. Barb asked her to come with us for company for Julia. But to watch the two of them, you would not think that Julia cared much that another child was along. And a sort of almost ambivalence went on during the entire two days, and yet when it came time to say good-bye tonight, Julia effusively told Leeanne how much she was going to miss her. After leaving Leeanne’s house, Julia again told us that she was going to miss Leeanne and that she didn’t want to say good-bye. And then I wonder what Julia sees, what she imagines or understands about her time with other kids. Clearly, she wants relationship and in some way she imagines relationship. God, I hope she learns how to do it.

This is our last night in Virginia. We leave for Maryland in the morning. Back to internet service which I have missed. Yes, I am tied to the communication. But we leave this sweet and quiet place, appreciating the pleasure of spending time with Barb and Steve and their Virginia friends. A good time in the country, away from all that we are comfortable with, but certainly in luxury. And now, time for a late night soak in a very deep bath. Did I say luxury?

19 July 2011 (morning)

Elaborating on how Julia flounders at times during our days on vacation.

At the little natural history museum, there was a very interesting volcano exhibit complete with some sound. The sound was not overwhelming or even loud, and Julia had her ear plugs in her ears. Still, she planted her feet, covered her ears, leaned hard against me so as not to have to move, and squealed. It was behavior from two years ago (but without the tantrum which would have accompanied the fear). She would not move through or past the exhibit without a lot of coaxing and would not look at or learn about the exhibit. We were stuck time. All I saw was her terror.

We had a little girl of 12 with us yesterday and will have her todays as well. She is the daughter of Steve and Barb’s friends. Leeann is a sweet girl, very country, very sheltered, a bit spoiled in the manner that her parents have been very careful with her, kept her young, and she is not adventurous. She is very kind to Julia, and Julia accepts her company and companionship. Julia adds little to the relationship. She must be told to offer Leeanne a coloring book or to consult with Leeanne about a tv show. The relationship is one sided. I am rather awkward at these times. I am grateful that another child will deal with Juila. My impulse is to thank the child profusely. I want to do something to make the circumstance more entertaining for the other child. Juila appears to be pretty oblivious to the kindness and the friendship offered.

I am so used to urging Julia from activity to activity at home that I forget how reticent she is about moving out of her complete comfort zone. Left to her own devices, Julia would watch tv, play with her leapster or video games, play with clay or draw all day. I (and her line therapists) are constantly pushing her into different activities, and she pushes back a little bit and then transitions to the next activity. This is the reason for schedules, the reason we talk about transitioning all the time. This basic behavior, this desire for sameness and non-involvement, is exhausting. I can feel that I am driving this child on, controlling every move she makes, and her lack of initiative is frustrating. My eternal hope is that she will find the activities outside of herself stimulating and fun and will eventually want to do them herself, without my prompting. And sometimes, it appears that she is moving backwards -- I’ve had to help her get dressed all summer if I want her ready for our morning therapy. I renew my resolve to direct her each day, but wonder if I will have to do this her whole life.

On one hand, I am searching for the path to walk for the next years, my new life, and I proclaim that I am not looking for some ego gratifying task, not the glory road. I say I will be satisfied with the mundane if that is my lot. If I can find some joy and meaning and a means to deepen my spirit. On the other hand, I worry that Julia will always need me to push her through her days towards some learning, some experience, and to bed at night.

18 July 2011

Julia has been on a horse every day we’ve been here. With a saddle and also bareback. The bareback seems especially good -- lots of balance work. Julia was scared yesterday but today was easier. Barb has the lead at the horse’s head and I hold on to Julia from the side. Both of Barbara’s horses are big and their walk is quicker than Julia is used to, but she is enjoying it.

Julia does complain a lot. A lot! About everything we do. It is all strange and new and out of her scheduled activities. And so, the walk in the woods was accompanied with lots of Julia noise. Still, she did it, she got through it, it will be better the next time.

It was hot today, each thing we did took lots of energy. We went to a local museum of natural history. Small and compact but with a few dinosaur skeletons, some good animal exhibits, and some explanation of soil and rocks. A number of good exhibits that could be touched, more than most bigger museums. Julia touched. Julia had trouble with the volcano exhibit -- too real, it was film, too noisy, too intense.

Julia away from her scheduled activities flounders. She seems more autistic, she is more willful, harder to control. She is small and control is easily managed even if I have to pick her up and carry her somewhere. I try not to get in the position of physically moving her because she will not be as easily moved when she is 15. We must work on discipline, listening, following directions now, so the behavior will be imbedded by the time she is 15.

We’ve done math work once; drawn in her travel journal twice; did morning parade once. It is hard getting any working time in at all -- it always seems so awkward. I hope it gets easier as the traveling goes on. I theorize that the strange new activities will not seem as foreign if we have some standard work to ground her.

I am explaining myself to those who ask, defining the new time, asking opinions, gathering ideas and information. This does feel like a quest.

A girl on the farm.

Julia's new friend, Leeanne, with Aunt Barbara on the steps of the Triple Creek Farm log home.

17 July 2011

Very present. Is that what travel does to me? When I cast my sensors inside looking for might have, should have, could haves, ought to’s, I cannot find them. Just now. Just sitting on the porch of Barb and Steve’s house in the middle of no where in Virginia. Aware that the dog follows me and keeps an eye on what I am doing. Aware that I look at the surrounding trees and wonder at their growth as if they were part of a garden only to remember that no one cultivates their varied sizes and shapes. Aware of the stillness and quiet, so much that an approaching car or truck, and probably a pick up, can be heard for almost a mile away -- and the mile away is almost on the property.

Barbara wonders if I can feel comfortable here. I wonder if I look completely uncomfortable. I like the quiet. I admit to being antsy about not understanding the rhythm of the days, looking for cues of the life. But I am more comfortable than not. I like the stillness. I can imagine a great garden here. I can imagine working on it.

The dog gets up from the porch and takes a run in the front-of-the-house field. He is a city dog, grown and raised in Kearny, New Jersey. He too is adapting to this space and freedom, the sounds and the quiet. He is doing okay. I can’t compare him to a country dog. I don’t know any. I wonder how Latkah would do.

Yesterday, Barb and Sheila, my niece, took Julia on a short horse back ride. Julia sat in front of Sheila on a big western saddle and Julia listened and followed directions. Julia helped brush the horses and was very patient as they were readied. Before the ride and when they were gone, I sat with Ruby, who lives on the property, whose husband once owned the land, and who has an informal life-estate to the small piece of land that their trailer sits on. Mr. Gibson, who has since died, and Ruby have watched over the land and the house and barn since Barb and Steve have owned and built here. Barb and Steve coming down every month or two to see the progress on the log house that they built and then to enjoy, get away from New Jersey, have benefited from having someone on the land, and Ruby has been able to keep her home.

Ruby handed Julia a bucket and a bunch of black eyed peas to shell, and after asking a few times and showing, Julia happily helped shell the peas, as if she had been asked and done it her whole life. Here is something that I never think of doing. Here is something that Julia can do well and without effort. I marvel at the opportunity for experiences that I cannot give her. Cannot only because it is not something that I imagine.

Last year, when I wildly proposed a half way house in China for girls who were on the road to adoption, and the notion that I might travel with some of those girls back to the States to lecture, Barbara proposed putting us up here in the wilds of Virginia for short periods of time. Right now, I can almost see, very clearly, in fact, a bevy of Chinese girls shelling peas, playing with kittens, digging in a big garden and being put to sleep in the upstairs rooms.