Happy Birthday to me!

I was fast asleep at 3:34am this morning when I turned 32 years young. When I woke up, I was grateful for another day and another year. Jimmy had gone to get us coffee and I was cuddling with the dog in bed. I could see the bright blue skies and the sunlight through the window in the room. Besides the gusty cold wind that was blowing everything around, I could tell it was going to be a beautiful day at the Jersey Shore.

We traveled to Wildwood Crest, NJ last night and will be spending a few days here at my mom and stepdad's shore house. I always enjoy being in this town during the off season and especially around my birthday. It is always decorated for the holidays and is very festive, but is quiet and peaceful. This year is no different, though, I still haven't caught the holiday spirit bug and I'm not sure if I will. I appreciate the festiveness, the lights, decorations and other people's holiday cheer. Though this year, I think I just want to be a spectator. I don't really want to participate. Then I take a step back from those thoughts and think, I can't live my life like that. It is about living in the moment, being present, enjoying it all and being grateful for it all. I still enjoy life and want to continue enjoying life. For the most part, I can say I do but when my moments creep in, they take over. A friend who has suffered a great loss herself wrote me an email a few days ago after reading my blog. She stressed how important it is to feel those feelings when they creep in. She wrote about how it is also important to not judge your thoughts and feelings as they come up. Let them come, feel them and then let them go - all in the time frame that feels right. When I think about it, I know she's right.

I had an emotional night leading up to my birthday last night and wasn't sure what to expect when I actually woke up for the day. All day I was wondering when and if a moment would arise. It is my birthday afterall. It is the first birthday I'm experiencing since my Dad died a month and a half ago. I can't help but be sad that part of the reason that I am here on this earth isn't here on this earth with me anymore. I think about how I'll never be able to have my Dad wish me a Happy Birthday again and that makes me sad, too. But as Dad would say, it is what it is.

So, during some greeting card reading this afternoon my moment came. Jimmy's card to me was very sweet, like they all are, but just a few things he said made me tear up. Before I knew it, the faucets were in full force....out of nowhere, for many reasons. It was necessary. I needed to feel those tears at that moment and then let them pass....and they did. Hey, its my birthday, I can cry if I want to, right?

Eternally Comfortable - Part 1

It was decided after Dad died that there would be two memorial services for him. The first would take place in Pikesville, Maryland on Wednesday, November 4. The second would take place on Monday, November 9 in Boynton Beach, FL. Following the second service in Florida, we would travel to a Veteran’s Cemetery to have Dad put to rest there.

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Jimmy and I arrived in Maryland the night before the November 4th service and got to spend time with my stepmom and sisters. My sisters and I decided that we wanted to read something at Dad’s service so we spent most of the night working on our eulogy. We took more of a comedic approach. Dad definitely would have wanted it that way. He was a jokester, alright.

Surprisingly, I slept well the night before the funeral. I was certainly exhausted at the end of each night so when it was bedtime, I would promptly pass out. Getting ready for the service on Wednesday morning was surreal. It was quiet at the house as we all got ourselves showered and dressed. I kept thinking in my mind "I can't believe I'm going to my father's funeral today". Much like my first blog entry, the thought that my Dad had died still swirled around in my head. The thought hadn't stuck there yet and with each swirl it became more and more incomprehensible.

After we were ready, we all piled into the car and headed to the hotel nearby to pick up my Bube and Pop-Pop. As any parent would, they were taking the loss of my dad, their son, very hard. I was nervous to see them for the first time though my anxiety disappeared upon our greetings and hugs. I could see sadness in both of their eyes that I have never seen before. Bube and Pop-Pop know death all too well. Bube outlived her parents and all 5 of her brothers. She’s lost nieces and nephews. Pop-Pop lost both of his parents at a very young age and was raised by his older sister. He later suffered the loss of his sister which was his only living relative left. During the days I spent with them following Dad’s death, they didn’t really say much. Though at one point, Pop-Pop turned to me and said, “I lost my parents at a young age, I lost my sister, but I should have never lost my son.” It was heartbreaking.

We got to the synagogue early and were taken into a family waiting room. We were told to stay in this room prior to the service. As people began to arrive, they could come to this room to greet us. Before people started to arrive, we were allowed to go into the sanctuary to see Dad if we wanted to. I absolutely wanted to go in there to see him. I had written that letter to him that I wanted to put in his casket, too.

As a man escorted Jimmy and I into the sanctuary I was overcome with thoughts that this would be the last time I ever saw my Dad again. It had been awhile since I had seen him and I didn’t know what to expect. As the man was opening the casket for us, I remember covering my mouth in disbelief that I was actually seeing my father in there. My first thought was how peaceful he looked lying there. He looked just like how my Dad looked. It looked like he was just taking a nap, in fact. He looked comfortable, too. At any moment, we were waiting for him to pop up, say “BOO” and scare us! That’s definitely something Dad would have done….but he didn’t. No BOO’s. He was still and peaceful and dead. I finally saw it with my own eyes. It was death like I had never seen before and it was real. No matter how many times my mind asked me the question, what I was seeing was real. He really was gone.

My stepmom, sisters and I had talked about what to bury him in. Instantly, we all agreed on what he would have wanted. He wasn't a tux or a suit guy to Bube’s dismay. Had anyone buried him in that attire, I know he would have been eternally uncomfortable. Anyone who knew my Dad knew he lived in his 'coveralls'. They were overalls to us, of course, but to Dad they were coveralls. Since it was hard for him to get around and carry things, his coveralls stood as his personal storage to keep whatever he might have needed at any time in those pockets. He was just comfortable in his coveralls. He owned a few pairs, too. Dad also lived in his Vietnam Veterans hat. He served in the Army from 1969-1971 and was such a proud vet that he almost never left the house without that hat.

We saw it appropriate to make sure Dad was eternally comfortable – Vietnam hat, coveralls, button down flannel shirt, white sneakers. Don’t forget the Swiss army knife in his coverall pocket – he never went anywhere without a pocket knife!

My time in the sanctuary with Dad was emotional but necessary. I said what I needed to say, left the letter and left any regrets and guilt there too. I was ready to move forward, I was ready to get this service over with.

First, we were greeted by more family and friends who came to pay their respects before the service. At a point it was totally overwhelming. Bube’s sobs still echo in all of our minds when she saw my Uncle Ed for the first time. Dad and Uncle Ed were identical twins and unless you knew them, you couldn't tell them apart. When Uncle Ed walked into the family waiting room, Bube grabbed him, sobbed and held onto him for dear life. My Uncle Ed is my grandparent’s only connection to Dad besides my sisters and I and during that moment, Bube wasn’t letting go. It is a moment I will never forget being a witness to.

My grandparents, stepmom, sister and a family friend had sat with the rabbi the day before answering all sorts of questions about Dad. The Rabbi did a really beautiful job during the service recapping my Dad’s life with the information he gathered. He talked of my father being born a twin. Dad and Uncle Ed were identical twins and mirror images of each other. A few years later, my other Uncle Jay was born. My dad and his brothers were close growing up and got into all sorts of mischief together. The Shorr boys definitely had a reputation. We still aren’t allowed to hear some of the stories they were involved in growing up.

Dad graduated high school and went to a technical trade school for HVAC. He later got drafted to Vietnam where he served almost two full years. After he returned from Vietnam, he started up a heating and air conditioning business with his twin brother. Around this time, he met my mom Bonnie. They had me and a few years later, they divorced. Dad moved to Maryland a few years after that and met my stepmom, Holly. They married and had my two sisters, Rebecca and Rachael. Dad continued his career in HVAC until a spinal cord surgery in 1997. Since then, he had numerous health problems, surgeries, knee replacements and the list goes on. Even though he suffered physically because his body was failing him, he faced each day with whatever it took.

The Rabbi spoke of his love for his hobbies – fishing and airplanes. He also spoke of his love for his family. After he finished, he called on my sisters and I to read our eulogy. We each took turns reading different parts. We added to it to read at the second service as well. This is it in its entirety:

JENNIE:
Our father was... something else. For those of you who knew him, you know exactly what we're talking about.

He was a tchotchke man who loved selling windmills and puzzle rings on eBay. He had no problem leaving shreds of metal on the carpet as he carefully constructed his soda can airplanes and helicopters. In case you ever needed a flashlight, a watch, a Swiss army knife, keys to anything, or a piece of wood carved into your name, he was your guy.

He was supposed to move to FL on the day that he passed away so his stuff was packed up and shipped there to await his arrival. After he passed, his possessions were shipped back to Maryland where we got the opportunity to sort through his treasures. We came across some amazing special items, antiques, photos and writings that are priceless. However, the amount of 'crap' he kept was unreal. Let's face it, our dad was a packrat. Through the tears, we laughed as we sorted through lose change, pens that didn't work anymore, receipts from 1983, multiple rubber band balls and more extension cords that one would know what to do with. He was also a sucker for those collectors coins that you saw advertised on TV. Though, one catalog he received and saved that we feel summed up his love for tchotchke was "Things You Never Knew Existed". Somehow, our father knew these things existed.

REBECCA:
I helped him clean out his desk the other day and being a tchotchke man, he didn't want to throw a thing away. I, on the other hand, wanted to throw everything away. At one point, he held up a piece of wire, looked me right in the eye and said, "Becca, I don't know what this is but I'm keeping it." As we continued to dig through these so-called treasures, he found the prize for the day: A harmonica with an instructional DVD. We looked at each other and I had to ask. "Are you REALLY going to keep that?" He looked at me like I was crazy. Who was I to suggest that he throw out a perfectly good harmonica and instructional DVD?!

JENNIE:
On Thursday, when the moving truck arrived with his treasures, the weather was painfully beautiful. It was a perfect fall day. The sunshine was bright and the air was cool, crisp and very still. The movers began loading box upon box into the driveway for us to sort through. Minutes after starting to go through his treasures and while tossing the junk, the wind picked up. The leaves were swirling around everywhere, the wind gusts were strong, a chill came through the air and the sky suddenly turned dark right above the house. Rain drops began drizzling all over as we scrambled to move all of the boxes into the garage so they didn't get wet. We couldn't believe that the beautiful day changed within minutes. We justified this moment by saying Dad was doing everything possible to prevent us from tossing his most prized possessions into the dumpster. His eating habits were unique to him. Black coffee. Ring dings. Good-n-plenty. Bube's famous jelly roll and swirl cake. And he ALWAYS asked for more matzoh balls.

REBECCA:
As a father, he sure gave us some interesting advice. As an overprotective dad, Jennie was the first to receive a cell phone in a bag. Now this was before my time and cost about $2 per minute - a phone only to be used in emergencies. Rach and I received some pepper spray. "Just in case," he'd say. Yeah right. A gust of wind would probably blow, knocking either one of us out, leaving our attacker to grab our purses and run. The thought was there, the execution was just a little off. We all heard childhood stories about Dad and his brothers getting into trouble. We were reminded to NEVER partake in activities like these. We were never allowed to blow up a water fountain at school with a homemade bomb or to hang what appeared to be a fake body from a flagpole. He spoke fondly of these childhood memories. Of his brothers. And his parents. Although his health issues were difficult for him at times, he never stopped loving planes, making planes or flying them. While sorting through his items, we found toy airplanes, drawings of airplanes, plans for assembling them and even his Pilot log which documented his flights from 1976 through 2007. His other hobby passion included fishing and crabbing. When Bube and Pop-Pop lived in Baltimore, Dad and Pop-Pop would bring home bushels of crabs that they caught and prepared for us. Occasionally, a crab would get loose and run across the deck, Dad always caught them. Jennie, Rachael and I really enjoyed eating the crabs they caught though none of us wanted to clean out the guts. Dad always did that for us, too.

JENNIE:
He loved cracking jokes, although they were not always appropriate. Who am I kidding? More often than not they were inappropriate. In going through his stuff, we even found multiple folders full of some of his favorite inappropriate jokes. I think it was safe to say that none of us ever knew what would come out of his mouth. He sure had an unconventional sense of humor, which made bringing our boyfriends home very interesting.

RACHAEL:
He wore his coveralls everywhere. And they were coveralls, not overalls.

He was a Vietnam veteran and proud of it, too. He always wore his Vietnam cap. He had no problem telling cops after he had been pulled over for speeding or a broken tail light that he served his time for our country. Worked like a charm every time. Those cops always came back and said, "Well sir, here's a warning and thanks for serving our country." He had a special place in his heart for the dogs. He always fed them from the table, which is perhaps why our dog, Jake, is the size of a house. Jake always knew when it was time for breakfast. Dad got coffee and krimpets. Jake got krimpets, too. The one thing that we will remember most is his advice and famous quotes. Before we'd leave the house or go somewhere, he'd say, "If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's a duck." How's that for dating advice? And another one he'd say when you didn't want to take a jacket with you was, "It's better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it." That one may have gotten a few eye-rolls. When things weren't working out your way, he'd say, "If it's meant to be, it'll be." And his most famous quote of all and probably something that he would say to us on this day; "It is what it is."

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After we read our parts, we sat back down and moments later, the service was over. Everyone was invited back to our good family friend’s house to sit Shiva. Since my Dad and Holly had sold the house before my Dad passed away, they had the closing scheduled for November 6. The house was in the process of being packed up and was no place to sit Shiva. Our wonderful friends, Steve and Rona, opened up their home and welcomed our family and friends. It was a really special time following the service to be surrounded by family and some friends of ours who traveled to be there. It is with their constant support and love that help us begin to find our way without Dad here with us.

To be continued……

My Dad died, he's dead

I've had that statement run through my mind hundreds of times yet it still stops me in my tracks every time it pops up. Yesterday marked the one month anniversary of my father's passing. To think that I got the news one month ago baffles me since sometimes it feels like it's been years and other times only days. I had just come off of one of the most wonderful weekends of the year. Jimmy and I were in California seeing our favorite band, Phish, in a three day music festival. Festival 8 was filled with fantastic music, wonderful friends, good food and great hot desert weather. When I think back to that weekend, it is almost like a dream. I still don't think I've had time to process just how wonderful that weekend was since in an instant, it all changed.

The festival ended on Sunday night and during the beginning of our travels back on Monday morning, I got the life changing call from my sister that things weren't looking good with Dad. We still had the commute of flying home to get through and looking back, it will stand as the worst commute home of my life. During that 5 hour flight from California to New Jersey, I knew my Dad was only being kept alive by machines. I knew that he wouldn't survive my flight home.

I listened to my iPod the entire time and cried, hoping that I would eventually run out of tears which didn't happen. At one point, a new Phish song titled "Light" came on. I looked out the window and saw a beautiful sunset across the horizon and knew right then, that I had lost my father.


I knew right then that my Dad died, that he was dead.

Part of Light's lyrics read:

I can see the light between me and my mind
I can feel memories fall behind
And the light is growing brighter now
And the light is growing brighter now

I see the future is less and less there
And the past has vanished in the air
And I'm left in the now with a wondrous glow
I think I'm still me
But how would you know?

They were so fitting to me at the time. Now, when I hear that song I'm brought back to that moment in the plane when I knew my father died.

I spent the one month anniversary of his death at a Phish concert last night. They are playing Madison Square Garden for three nights and we were lucky enough to get tickets for each night. We returned home from Europe on Tuesday in time to get enough sleep to go right into three nights of Phish. Before last night's show, I just wasn't feeling it. I wanted to stay on my couch and wallow in my own self pity. If I learned anything from a month's worth of going and doing, its that going and doing is good for you.....even when you don't feel up to it. We headed into the city to meet up with friends who were gathering pre-show at a bar near the venue. The bar was hot and crowded. I found myself totally overwhelmed. I wanted to leave but knew I was in the right place. I just needed to give up my struggle with that moment to the Universe and my friends would take over from there. They all did and probably didn't even know it at the time. As I sat through my 73rd Phish show, I enjoyed the music but had a hard time getting out of my own head for most of the show. I can't say I totally enjoyed the show. Even though it was a great one, my head was just too strong of a force.

At 9:55pm last night, the whole month and the happenings of November came full circle to me when Phish played "Light". I choked back tears during the opening notes and allowed the song to take me where it needed. It was probably the best Light I've heard live which made it even more special. One month ago during this song, my dad died. One month later, to the minute, the same song was being played. I took it as a sign. Synchronicity has been all around me since he died and last night's song placement of Light was just another example.

The month of November was a complete whirlwind between dealing with my Dad's death and an insane amount of travel we had, too. We came home from California from the festival and headed to Maryland for 4 days for the first service. Then, we came back NJ to regroup to then head down to Florida for a 2nd service. It was back to NJ to regroup which was followed by a trip to Chicago with my mom to fulfill our life dream of seeing the Oprah show together. Then it was time to come back to NJ to regroup to head out for our big trip of the year - a 12 day trip to Spain and Holland. I think we were only home for 5 nights during the month of November. Being on the move constantly is helpful when it comes to grieving, I think. You don't really get a chance to stop and think and while I'm not sure if that is good or bad, I think its been instrumental in how I've dealt with things so far. I definitely have my moments and foresee them being around for quite sometime. I just wish they didn't come at the most inopportune times.

I am getting used to my new reality though I still think there is a lot of processing that needs to happen. I think the hardest part of this all is seeing how life continues to go on. In the grocery store, no one knows my dad just died. They go on picking out their fruits and vegetables and I go on wondering how life will go on from here. The thoughts of how I'll never hear my Dad's voice again, or smell Halston cologne on him, or hear his laugh after he tells one of his ridiculous jokes, or how he'll never remind me to change the air filters in our HVAC system or any of those little things that you just take for granted....I'll never get to experience them again. I try not to let my mind wander there too often because its too hard to think about those moments. Funny enough, I hear my Dad's voice in my head a lot. He'll say silly things to me. I guess it is comforting knowing he is still 'here'. His spirit is definitely with me and watching over me, but its going to take some getting used to how things have to be now.

I also try not to let my mind wonder to the 'what if's" and unfortunately there are many what ifs. I loved my father and he knew it, yet sometimes he had a difficult way of showing his love. He battled his life's demons up until the very end and while my father led a very difficult life, it helped to paint the picture of the man he was.

In March of this year, I traveled to Sedona, AZ and had a spiritual awakening. I had realizations about myself that I was finally able to confront and change in order for me to keep moving forward. One of the things I needed most was some space from my Dad. We had a rough patch with communication and giving each other what we needed. It was because of this that I needed some time and space from him. He understood and told me he'd give me all of the time and space I needed. We hadn't spoken in months and in August I got a call from him. He called to let me know my sisters had been in a car accident and while they were ok, this was another life lesson that life is just too short. He wanted to know if I was ready to bring him back into my life. He called our distance "silliness". I had very valid reasons why I needed space and at that time I wasn't ready to just make amends and forgive him. I told him I wasn't ready yet and sadly, that was the last time I spoke to my father.

I constantly think back to that moment - had I known he would die months later, it never would have ended like it did. However, I know what I did was right for me at the time and that is something I must remember. The positive thing from all of this is that I do not carry guilt around with me. On the morning of his first service in Maryland, I wrote him a five page letter saying everything I needed to say and everything that I'd never be able to say to him again. When they took me in to see him laying peacefully in his casket, I tucked the letter in his arm, touched his face and told him finally, "I love you and forgive you, Dad". It was a powerful moment that brought peace to me during one of the most painful times of my life. I let the guilt go right then and there and vowed to myself never to look back at why I had made some choices I did. Dad loved me and knew why I had to do what I did. He knew I loved him too and looking back I now realize that he did the best he could. I take comfort in the fact of knowing that Dad is out of pain now and that he no longer will struggle with what life had dealt him.

While my family and I would agree that he left us all way too soon, I know he is in a better place now.