Yahrtzeit - DMK - 86

I mourn twice a year. For my grandmother. On her birthday (today) and on her death day in March.

It's probably the only two days I'm actually genuinely saddened. I get ultra-introspective too. Nostalgic (not for poor times but for how much DMK ruled). But that's mourning in America (ha...).

I know, get over it, Jimmy. But it's not a bad sad that I get. It's not like I'm begging the Jesus to "just take me" or to "bring her back" or anything. It's not how "I just can't go on." She's dead. I accepted that the moment she died. No heaven. No hell. No "better place" weak ass justifying. But dead like the lamb chops I'm going to eat tonight in celebration of her life and what she meant to me. Lamb chops that she could never have afforded; ever-- and definitely could not have just gone out and a restaurant. With a credit card. Fancy times.

She would have been 86 today.

And it's not entirely about me either. I think she had some more living to do. Maybe. She died 15 years ago. Clinton years. Had she survived the Bush years she would have been proud to see Barack elected. She would have been nuts about the offspring. She would have prayed the Jesus for five hours each way on an airplane to come to my wedding. She would have advised, subtly.

She was just cool like that. And I miss her. Gotta stop...choking up now....

Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha'olam, dayan ha-emet.