Two or three lines. Two or three sentences. i get that far and then stop.

Jamie was one of my all time sweethearts. he was so real in the womb. i knew him right away.

it is too big too describe, and altogether too horrible to do really. i have been trying for over a month now to write about what this year has been since jamie’s accident. and how he continues to inspire me. this year has unfolded. it has been uneven and wrinkled and like a huge afghan is almost impossible to fold neatly and put away.

jamie tells me to remember every detail. when i say good-bye to my wife and son i think that this might be the last time i see them.

i guess i learned a huge lesson, but it’s because i had to. and i wrote something here because i wanted to.

my universe redefined itself. life is chaos when i remember jamie dying. there is no guarantee my son will live on. or anyone. it helps me appreciate things and people more. it also helps me feel the temporary structure of this life- this body. whatever.

my brother and elene didn’t deserve this. our family didn’t deserve this. i feel so strongly about unjust death. i hate the war. people’s families are being torn apart because a few people have the power and the bombs.

the “jamie tree” and the “ari tree” are growing together in our back yard. it is what we can do. there is so much now we can’t do.

“silence the blasting parade. stop all the plans that you’ve made.”

what did i learn from this? nothing; and everything. maybe it’s really a bad dream, and it lasts longer and seems more real than other nightmares.

maybe there was no sense to this life to begin with, or maybe there was. it seems sometimes there is something constant. it is contained in my breath. i feel it when i dance and eat ice cream and listen to pearl jam. and yet, for me, i break off so easy. into tiny little pieces.

“and so i carry on, so weak from being strong. but soon my mind will change, what really is doesn’t rearrange. the part to be played is largely little, and all my life’s a sensible riddle.”

no matter how much time is invested in oneself. no matter how much money is tucked away. how much yogurt or granola one eats. no matter how much preparation. when a child dies, so do the parents.

i’ll never finish this. it’s impossible to sum up this year and it’s thoughts. i love you jamie. forever.

uncle daven