Trust Me, It's A Fake

Trust is funny.

It makes me laugh, loud and fake.

My nine month old daughter does that now. She fake laughs.

"Here," we say, "I don't find you funny at all. Ha Ha Ha."

But, my daughter doesn't understand any of it. She laughs just because she wants to mimic us.

Ha, Ha, Ha.

Who is laughing now?

Who doesn't know how I have been bleeding?

So much I thought was real, feels fake now.

I hold onto my pillow as I surf myself to sleep.

Instead of peering out the window into the darkness of the night,

I google words like, "organic" and "natural" and try not to think until sleep hits me.

It's not dark in my head that way.

My brain is awash with light,

I try to fool my heart,

"It's not real," I say, "It can't be real."

Because Trust me, It's all fake anyways.

Gymboree- 0 missed calls

You used to call me during Gymboree.
I didn't always answer.
I have seen gymbo dance for seven years now,
you have been gone for two months.

Everything has stayed the same.
The boldest colors and the sweetest songs,
"Dance Gymbo dance," and Ella dances.
You see her, don't you?
She is changing, and growing and learning to move to the music.

I feel you always.

It hurts in Gymboree when my phone doesn't ring.
When I no longer have the choice of answering right away or calling you back.
I have made the most horrible of choices,
I have left too many calls go unanswered.

Voice mail is not my voice.
I miss you.

Gymboree ends and I have no missed calls.
Oh, how I miss you.

The Twenties Girl By Sophie Kinsella

There is a reading list.

I see it in my brothers hands.

The books they have read, the words they have run through.

I flip through them and marvel at their minds,

as mine starts to unravel.

My sister loved to read.

Her last year was marked by books.

Funny ones, upbeat ones, ones we shared.

Just this past summer we roamed the bookstore together,

with stacks under our arms.

We shared our favorite authors.

What my sister liked in a book, I mirrored.

She told me, that at her last doctors appointment the news was bitter and tough to swallow.

She said, she looked up at her doctor and then quickly back down at her book.

"I just wanted to get back to the characters in the book" She had said to me, "They were so happy."

She loved getting lost in a book.

She loved the characters.

I have a list of books I have to read.

Some the last books my sister read.

But of all the books I will read,

I will forever treasure the book she escaped to last.

It made her laugh and love,

and then she did what she always did...

she passed it on to all of us, her siblings, to share.

Filling In Blanks

How do you mourn? They want to ask, but that would be too bold. To obvious.
So instead, they clutch at straws and come up with words to break bread with,
"Your sister," They start and they never finish.
Because in their mind they know that they can't start.
They can't begin,
they can only add the ending,
"She should give you strength." or the famous, " You were blessed with her sisterhood."
So I dip my carbs into anything that looks remotely like mayonaise and fill in all the middles.
I retell the same stories.
I paint pictures of my sister in all her favorite colours, in the clothes she wore so well.
I say things like, "She was a light in this world." and "We were lucky to be loved by her."
But, I choke on my appetite.
It fills me up with all the wrong emotions.
Instead of feeling brutally sad, I feel horrible deep in denial.
I smile at strangers and laugh with those I love.
I tip toe out of my nightmares and lock the doors to my most favoirte memories.
"Come," I say, "Let's walk away from this."
But instead of walking away,
I walk in circles.

The Road Not Taken

I have travelled down roads before,

some less travelled on.

Some marked with tracks and beaten down by use.

Some I know by memory,

some I have forgotten.

This time It was new for me.

For us.

When I came to Israel I knew I would be racing towards you

and holding myself back at the same time.

I knew the roads would feel like they were all slanting to you,

but I also knew I would lose my balance.

I knew that in my footing was the telltale signs of a little girl.

Unsure.

Going, coming back. Coming to you, turning away from you.

Unsure.

I recognized the roads.

They were painted familiar by other peoples stories.

"The view." They had said, " Is breathtaking."

But, when I got there and my breath was taken, I turned to my brother and said,

"They said it was such a beautiful view. But, Its just a view."

He turned to me sadly, and taught me alot by just saying simply,

"What could they say?"

I know.

I have nothing to say.

I have feelings I can explore, but nothing to say.

The way the road winded towards you and I knew I would soon be standing at your door in Queens.

And now the roads winded and brought me to a mountain of graves.

A home of only heart and souls.

And somewhere amongst them all, G-d had placed my 34 year old sister.

The way I remembered each drive from LaGuardia to your house.

Your beautiful smile full of excitement for my stay.

Now this drive.

I knew you knew we were coming.

I saw your beautiful smile. I just so badly wanted to reach you and kiss you.

Adina,

How I love you.

How I have to come to love you here now too.

There is nothing for me to touch, because your stone is not up yet.

I want to reach for something for balance, but I find myself only coming up with other peoples stones.

I touch it. And I don't touch you.

I want to hold you and feel you.

I want to hug you and touch you.

Instead I end up looking around.

Seeing things through my brothers eyes and my parents eyes.

They were here first,

they travelled these roads before me.

I imagine that.

The way they walked.

The way they walked with you.

I wasn't there that day,

but I find the place my mother sat.

I imagine I know where my father stood.

I see my brothers strong and broken at the same time.

I did not walk with them that day,

but I walk to you now.

Adina, how I loved you.

How I love you still.

How I feel around to try to find something to hold onto.

I walk on this road,

I do not know what comes next.

I do not know.