The past few weeks have contained some of the peak moments of my life and some of the most crushing, painful ones.
I held it together through planning P's bar mitzvah, juggling the details, dealing with months of anxiety dreams (dreams in which we forgot about the date, or we showed up at temple in jeans and t-shirts, or we forgot to send the invitations, or we forgot to hire the photographer, or only 5 people showed up, etc. . . ).
The day was beautiful and P was poised and did wonderfully.
Then 5 days later, he shined in his middle school production of "As You Like It"--a Shakespeare comedy of manners and gender identity. He managed to prepare for the bar mitzvah, deal with the demands of the lead role in the play with rehearsals 4 days a week AND keep up with his homework.
I don't know if *I* could have done this at age 13 and in the 8th grade.
But then the crash.
My father is seriously ill.
We didn't realize it at the bar mitzvah--in fact, we were all more worried about my mother. My father has been the family's rock. Several days after he returned home to Florida, he told us that his kidney's are failing. In fact, he is facing dialysis and soon.
They have been failing for quite some time. Nearly two years while his doctors have done nothing.
We circled the wagons.
Flew my parents back here.
Dealing with medical appointments and second opinions.
I don't have a lot of energy left to post here.