The catastrophe in Surfside is still very much among our family. Still no word on Jonathan's cousin, although with the passing days the terrible outcome seems a near certainty.
Last night, my friend Joel texted -- his high school friend Michael Altman was missing, too. They attended Palmetto High together -- my Ds' alma mater. Joel said he was a great guy.
As if on an awful cue, Rabbi Yossi called, to catch up and get some of my humor. He's a Miami Dade Police and Fire Rescue chaplain, and has been on scene since early Thursday morning. I told him about Joel's friend -- Yossi knows Joel, a Catholic who loves hanging with us when we talk Torah. Yossi reported that indeed they had removed Joel's friend from the wreckage just hours earlier. I texted Joel, and he had received the same terrible information from Michael's sister.
Oy, as Yossi said. This has been such a long and painful slog, where the awful relief comes in the form of knowing your loved one is now resting. I guess it was similar, but on an awfully larger scale, during 9/11 in NYC.
Our longtime friend Diane came over Saturday night. We hadn't seen her all year -- she's been having some tough issues with her grown kids. She brought apps and a bottle of champagne, and we brought in food from our Middle Eastern place, Shaddai. It was lovely to catch up, though sadly a lot of the catching up was the sharing of bad news.
She didn't know about the sudden, shocking death of our friend Elizabeth. At D2 and Jonathan's wedding, they had shared a wonderful time together -- ending up in another friend's room, and sharing a bit of the herb neither woman had smoked in decades. Diane recalled how vivacious and young Elizabeth was, and couldn't process that she had died in her sleep. We still can't process it either.
Again, oy! What a couple of years it's been -- a classic "Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse..." type of thing.
The plague is of course the over-arching misery, but thankfully on the retreat. Wifey had a terrible health crises and ensuing 6 months of rehab. I was pressed into service as her butler and chauffer. Then our friend Elizabeth. Now this catastrophe in Surfside, and its effect on our son in law's family.
And then there's our bright ray of sunshine: the chubby grandson. He got his second haircut over the weekend, and is absurdly adorable. D1 sent a video of him eating a mango -- with comical focus and enjoyment. He truly lights all of our lives.
The Ds say I'm a modern Tevye, except I don't get to sing "IF I were a rich man." But they love watching me ponder the nature of existence, and the nature of the Big Man.
So I guess all I can humbly do is ask said Big Man if maybe there hasn't been enough misery and tragedy for awhile? Maybe hold off on the mass casualty events for a bit -- and the health crises?
All I know is, I feel for those with losses in Surfside. You go to sleep with a loved one sleeping peacefully in an oceanfront condo, and wake to learn they're somewhere in a pile of mangled concrete and steel -- hoping maybe they're in a pocket of air, and alive. And over days, your hopes dim. Talk about torture on earth.
May the Big Man bring peace to the families. And may I learn of no more direct connections to the tragedy.
Though given the nature of our small town/big city, I have little doubt I'll learn of more of these links to the affected as time goes by.
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