Lamb Sushi

Dear Nancy,

I am sorry it took me a couple of days to write back. I know I don’t need to explain :-) I’m so happy you got a good report of your Dad on Easter. That had to be of some relief to you. I also understand that whatever “relief” may come of a good report, you will never hear the words either of us would love to hear most. “He doesn’t have Alzheimer’s anymore! Something happened! It’s a MIRACLE!! He’s back. He’s BACK!” Nothing like a holiday to poke pins into the psyche of a person dealing with loss and change. Personally I would be happy to never have another holiday as long as I live. Nothing can ever compare to the holidays I used to have, when people were whole. When my loved ones knew what day it was. My memories of those times are unblemished and pure. I had the best of the best. Holidays now only serve as reminders of how good things used to be. For a non-religious family, these holidays simply become something you do because you’ve always done it. But there’s no “memorial” attachment to any of it. My Dad had his own religion. He developed it in the middle of a rice paddy while in Vietnam. It’s quite metaphysical and interesting. Anyway….I digress. (Or perhaps I regress….) We had lamb, too. Our oven broke so it was sort of raw lamb. Lamb sushi if you will. No one minded. We were still together. “What is today supposed to be?”, my Dad asked. “Easter.” everyone said in unison. “Can someone please not forget to tell me when I’M dead??”, he asked of us.