Like Out of A Movie

Has something happened to you in your life, and someone actually says, "Holy shit, that's like out of a movie!" Ooooooh baby, you have no idea. Welcome to my world for the last month.

With a tragedy as gigantic, all consuming and horrific as what has befallen my family, the word "normal" ceases to exist. Life inherently will never be the same. Denny was taken so violently, and as if those thoughts aren't traumatic enough, I keep thinking about the future. My kids will have no Grandma, my sister-in-law won't have her mom to help plan her wedding, or guide her through having a baby, and my father-in-law will never be able to celebrate a holiday or anniversary without a deep and hollow pain. The past month has been filled with tears, anxiety, fear, and crazy stories...and just now we can start to see the gentle footsteps of a family moving toward the future, and away from the terror of that day.

I can't get over the generosity and kindness we've experienced in the last month - receiving cards from all over the country, Denny's foundation getting almost 30k in donations, and the hugs and kisses from those I didn't even know cared that much. But some of the stories from our time in Long Island are too good to not share in my blog...truly, they are "Out of a Movie." I kept feeling like I was stuck in the middle of Garden State and Moonlight Mile the whole two weeks of my stay. Surreal to say the least.

The first one happened early on in Shiva. My father-in-law has a huge amount of insanely loyal clients from his CPA business, including several people in the restaurant business. One large client owns a chain of old-school family-style Italian places in Long Island and Florida. The patriarch of the family and his two handsome, slick-backed hair and gold chained sons entered the house and gave their heartfelt condolences to everyone. They, along with so many other people uttered the words, "Please let us know if there is anything we can do for you." Having heard this sentence a million times already, we had all perfected the polite and wistful nod, then looking away we say, "Oh thank you, that's so kind. We'll let you know, of course." Usually people shake their heads, processing that there will never be anything anyone can do to make such a situation better, and then promptly move on to the buffet. In this case, the boys and their father stared my father-in-law square in the eyes and said, "No, I don't think you understand. If there is ANYTHING we can do to make this better, we'll do it." OOOOOOOHHHHHH, that kind of anything, spreads across all of our faces as we realize he's talking about a Sopranos type solution for the guy who killed Denny. Family-style Italian took on a whole new meaning that day.

Another time, we were at a Friday night temple service as a kind of thank you to the Rabbi who performed Denny's memorial service. I'm a shiksa and had never stepped foot inside a temple before, and was pleasantly surprised by what I saw. It was very church-like; open and airy. The service was a lot longer than church, even though it's a reform temple, so people were a little antsy to say the least. It's Friday people! What do you expect! But I couldn't stop cracking up...whether it's church or temple, people always start talking loudly while trying to sound hushed. Behind me were my husband's cousin, and her parents. They couldn't stop discussing the song/prayer book:

S: I can't read this book. It's wrong.
Dad: No this is the way it should be.
S: It's not left to right, it's right to left. That's wrong.
Dad: Just read the pages, S.
S: I'm just saying.
Dad: It's a reform temple, this is how they do it.
S: Well it's weird that's all I'm saying.
Dad: It's easier, what are you complaining about?
S: Nothing! Just saying
Dad: Fine
S: It's weird
Dad: S!!!
S: Nevermind

Then, the Rabbi very sweetly mentioned Denny, and how she was a queen in our family, and how she will be missed. We all got teary eyed as the Rabbi asked the crowd to do a rememberance and prayer "shout out," if you will. People started speaking the names of loved ones who had passed away or needed a prayer said for them. At the very end, we hear a fairly old guy yell out in a thick Long Island accent , "Formah, President Fow'rd" (translation, former President Gerald Ford). We all looked at each other and started cracking up as silently as possible. Former President Ford? Where the hell did that come from? Only in Long Island...only in Long Island.

It was like out of a movie.