And I'm not done.
First of all, I am trying to stay home much, on the little sofa, to be present for Bracha who is on her way out of this world. I keep telling her what a sweet and good cat she is. She is mostly resting; now and then she wanders around looking like she is trying to remember why she got up. I have moved my laptop here, and a good deal of the time today she spent on my lap, between me and the lap desk, just hunkered down. (That is unusual for her.) I think the pools of liquid I cleaned up today are vomit; they are not even going through.
My delight today was meeting with a friend for coffee.
Then, after shopping for a few groceries, on the way home I stopped at my beloved's grave and sat for a while. I don't for a moment believe that his essence is located there. I'm not even sure he visits. But I still find it a beautiful and peaceful spot in which to sit and regather my strength and quiet; and I sometimes speak to him softly out loud anyway.
Later this evening I offered to bring chicken soup to a friend coming home from hospital; then I discovered I had no chicken. I began soaking the frozen chicken bones in water and vinegar for a base; and now I am dashing to the market that remains open all night for some frozen kosher chicken to pop into the base in the morning. (Oh yes, and parsley and parsnip and dill. Still have carrots and onions.) Somehow going for chicken at one in the morning registers as perfectly normal. You'd think I lived in New York.
Bracha is sitting next to me, eyes mostly closed, present to this moment as it is.
I pray that when this time comes for me, I can remain as patient and as present as she has been.
Good night. Sort of.
And good shabbos. And I wish us all a meaningful and REAL S'lichot.
And I'm not done.