Such a great story
Our most favorite meal was breakfast. We would sit across from each other at the table in the dining room, which was our favorite room in the house in New Jersey because it was flooded with light and because I had designed it exactly to suit our life style. We would have coffee (which he would prepare before I even got up) and oatmeal with berries and talk, talk, talk. We talked about the absurdities of the world, about our thoughts on current events in the world as well as in our lives, he would read poetry or something interesting he found in NY Times and I would listen and comment and he would comment back and there was no end to the variations on the topic until it was time to do something else, like go for a walk in the park.
On Monday, March 9, 2009 we had what turned out to be our last breakfast together. I was looking at him across the table, the morning light dancing on his smiling, radiant face. He was leaning back slightly in his chair, his open palm on his chest, tapping as he said suddenly "I had a great life" . I remember feeling surprised at the past tense and envious of his ability to simply allow the beauty to override all adversity. He said he accomplished all he ever wished to accomplish, he loved and was loved by the best; if it all ended right there and then he would have no regrets.
Time and again he reminded me that the story (whatever it was at the moment) was going to end (and that was the good news! ) but it was always pertaining to other people, my parents, George, his mom. That day was the first time that he made such a summarizing, seemingly final statement about his life and I must admit it scared me. When I protested ("what do you mean you HAD a great life" etc.) he said he really felt it and just wanted to say it, that's all.
The other day I found a little posted note in Avi's handwriting:
Such a great story
Of course I don't
Want it to end
Yet if it didn't end
It wouldn't be
Such a great story
On Monday, March 9, 2009 we had what turned out to be our last breakfast together. I was looking at him across the table, the morning light dancing on his smiling, radiant face. He was leaning back slightly in his chair, his open palm on his chest, tapping as he said suddenly "I had a great life" . I remember feeling surprised at the past tense and envious of his ability to simply allow the beauty to override all adversity. He said he accomplished all he ever wished to accomplish, he loved and was loved by the best; if it all ended right there and then he would have no regrets.
Time and again he reminded me that the story (whatever it was at the moment) was going to end (and that was the good news! ) but it was always pertaining to other people, my parents, George, his mom. That day was the first time that he made such a summarizing, seemingly final statement about his life and I must admit it scared me. When I protested ("what do you mean you HAD a great life" etc.) he said he really felt it and just wanted to say it, that's all.
The other day I found a little posted note in Avi's handwriting:
Such a great story
Of course I don't
Want it to end
Yet if it didn't end
It wouldn't be
Such a great story
Views: 17
Comment
-
Comment by gabe on November 29, 2009 at 11:15am
-
what rich poetry, so profoundly him. thanks mama.
-
Comment by bhasa leona on November 28, 2009 at 7:08pm
-
dearest anna, thank you for telling us such a great story ...
About
© 2025 Created by bhasa leona.
Powered by
You need to be a member of AviBob family and friends to add comments!
Join AviBob family and friends