Do you remember the distinctive sound the stairs made when mom and dad went down after saying goodnight to us? The noise was different, somehow, than at any other time of the day. It felt so comforting to me.

I make that sound now. Mind blowing.

I love you.
LJR

“In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And when your sorrow is comforted, you will be content that you have known me. You will want to laugh with me.”

~Antoine de Saint Exupery

As we pulled out I tried to spot him making his way to his car, but I couldn’t see him. Did I really feel panicked or is it just hindsight?

I got a new car on Monday. While both babies were sleeping in the back I decided to fiddle with my radio and program it to greet me with ‘You Are Loved.’ Which has been a standard since my first cell phone. I must have screwed it up because in a rare quiet moment today I turned on the car and realized it read ‘You Are Love’ instead.

I spent the ride home thinking about the difference. I chose ‘You Are Loved’ to remind me that despite what my brain chemistry wanted me to believe, there were people in the world to cared for me. I never really found it as comforting as I thought I should. It seemed passive aggressive and too gossamer to be comforting. But, somehow, being reminded ‘You Are Love’ suddenly made way more sense.

Then you came to mind. You, my beloved brother, are Love.

You always have been. I remember so many times that I felt insignificant and invisible and my sweet baby brother would be there… seeing me one way or another. Using his allowance to buy me a trinket. Giving me the best seat for the movie. Proudly wearing the mind-blowingly ugly hat I knit him for Christmas and keeping it in his car until it was just threads… I think you would have packed it up and hauled it home if I hadn’t made you throw it away. Sitting up in bed waiting for me to fall asleep first so your snoring wouldn’t keep me up.

You get what you give in this world and in order to be loved, you first have to be courageous enough to give it. You knew that in your core and always did. I can see it clearer than ever now that I have come to be in touch a bit with the friends you chose after you left home. What a fine group of people. And they love you.

What gets me crying, though, is wondering if you felt loved? Did you pass knowing that the love you felt and emanated shone back to you? Oh god, Joe, I hope you did, though I know that I did not show you the true depth and breadth of mine. Maybe I didn’t even know myself.

In little pieces,
Your sister

The Thing Is

to love life, to love it even

when you have no stomach for it

and everything you’ve held dear

crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,

your throat filled with the silt of it.

When grief sits with you, its tropicalheat

thickening the air, heavy as water

more fit for gills than lungs;

when grief weights you like your own flesh

only more of it, an obesity of grief,

you think, How can a body withstand this?

Then you hold life like a face

bewtween your palms, a plain face

no charming smile, no violet eyes,

and you say, yes, I will take you

I will love you, again.

~ Ellen Bass

Self-portrait

This is Joe’s eye. So blue and twinkly. He took lots of pictures of eyes, all colors of irises and lashes. I imagine him with a wry smile asking for permission to do so.

Joe had many friends in New York and visited often. Washington Square in Greenwich Village was one of his favorite places. On Sundays he liked to go play chess with the old men on those stone chess tables.

There were a half dozen of these shots of games. I think they are really interesting and colorful. I like the way he got right down there at the table top angle to get this shot.

I imagine that this is a Dartmouth-Hitchcock bash, but who knows? Joe liked to party. It could be at the Waldorf-Astoria for all I know. I love the composition, especially the woman in the foreground striding toward the camera whilst chewing.

This is another from the Halloween series, probably taken in a bar. Who knows if Joe even knew this guy. I like how the photo reads at first as a crescent moon in a night sky and is only gradually revealed to be a man with a cigarette in his mouth.

There were many shots of this pile of folders. At Dartmouth –Hitchcock, as a research coordinator, Joe shuffled file folders all day. It makes me really happy that he could stop and see something visually interesting in a pile of folders.

This was taken when Joe joined his Dad and his Dad’s buddies for a winter trip to our camp on Moosehead Lake to ice fish and snow machine. Joe had a ball being with the guys and doing guy things. I remember he proudly told me he trounced them all at cribbage.

There were many of these snapshots of people. I don’t know them, but Joe must have known these two. It’s such a loving portrait. My gaze just zooms right in on those smile crinkles at the corner of their eyes.

I have no idea how Joe got so close to this duck but it is quite a shot. Any pro would have been proud of it. He must have been lying on the ground with his chin in the water to get it.

Joe attended a friend’s graduation from law school and afterwards they all went down to the river. I believe this is his friend’s sister. Joe must have been very taken with her – it was hard to pick amongst the many shots he took. A flower of young womanhood!

I particularly like this game shot because of his friend’s striped shirt (I strongly suspect that this is Steve Katz). I really wonder if Joe looked back through all his pictures after he took them. They were organized by date taken. Perhaps he did to remember good times with friends, and the beauty he saw all around him.

This was taken on our family trip in April 2010 to Terceira, an island in the Azores way out in the middle of the Atlantic. Interesting flora abounded there, and Joe took hundreds of pictures.

This is another one from the Moosehead Lake ice fishing trip. He must have crawled right under the lip of ice to get this shot of the shore where our camp is. I like how the foreground is so dark and cool blue, with the far-off land bathed in sunlight.

This is my favorite. Taken in the Azores on the terrace of our sumptuous villa, it exemplifies the enjoyment we all felt at the colors, the ocean, the morning breezes, and the excellent Azorean coffee. I love the way the geranium is perfectly reflected in the coffee cup.

Sana is Joe’s beloved goddaughter. He was so proud to be chosen for the honor and took his duties seriously, visiting her often at her home on Roosevelt Island in NYC. You can see him holding his camera over his head, reflected in her eyes.

Much to my surprise, Joe shot perhaps a hundred photos of flowers. I had no idea he had any interest in flowers whatsoever. But I did know that he had his eye out for beauty.

Joe really liked cloud formations and vapor trails and seemed to notice them often. How often do you look at the sky? I like the simplicity of this photo. It is exactly as he framed it in his camera, clean and crisp.

This must have been some Halloween party. From what I could tell, he was in NYC with a big group of pals who apparently started off at someone’s apartment and then barhopped all over the city, ending up in the wee hours on the bank of the East River. The photos were a bit blurry by then…

He’s not dead, just sleeping it off. At Moosehead camp, one of Joe’s Dad’s friends.

The bobbin on my spinning wheel

The stage at SMAC, a place Joe loved. We had a memorable evening listening to Bela Fleck to celebrate Joe’s 29th birthday.

I believe this view was on Joe’s commute from his home in Etna. He loved his country home.

Here’s another of the many of people in relationship, in a bar scene, probably known to Joe but who knows?

This was the view from the terrace on Terceira. Joe took many photos and movies of the sunsets. It was an extravaganza every night.

Joe and I had a wonderful day together, just the two of us, driving around Terceira on the coastal roads. Unbeknownst to each other we both took shots of this lone, windblown tree girted by ancient stone walls, with wild surf below. I even painted it in acrylics as a thank you to our landlady there. It pleases me that Joe and I both noticed the same bit of beauty.

The man himself. Our Joe. Next to a pretty girl. Self-portrait.

If you know who any of these people or events are, please leave a comment. Leave a comment even if you don’t, we’d love to hear from you.

Kaddish

Look around us, search above us, below, behind.
We stand in a great web of being joined together.
Let us praise, let us love the life we are lent
passing through us in the body of everything that is,
and our own bodies, let us say amen.

Time flows through us like water.
The past and the dead speak through us.
We breathe out our children’s children, blessing.

Blessed is the earth from which we grow,
Blessed the life we are lent,
blessed the ones who teach us,
blessed the ones we teach,
blessed is the word that cannot say the glory
that shines through us and remains to shine
flowing past distant suns on the way to forever.
Let us say amen.

Blessed is light, blessed is darkness,
but blessed above all else
is peace
which bears the fruits of knowledge
on strong branches
Let us say amen.

Peace that bears joy into the world,
peace that enables love.
Everywhere, blessed and holy is peace.
Let us say amen.

~Marge Piercy, from ‘The Art of Blessing the Day: Poems with a Jewish Theme’.

I have chosen to end this first most difficult Kaddish year by assembling an exhibit of Joe’s photographs at the library. On January 20th, from 5-6 pm, one day after the anniversary of his death, one day into our second year, we will gather with friends and family at the library to look at his work together, and celebrate his great heart and discerning eye. I will post the photographs on LG for those of you who can’t make it to Tamworth.

Look around us, search above us, below, behind.
We stand in a great web of being joined together.
Let us praise, let us love the life we are lent
passing through us in the body of Israel
and our own bodies, let’s say amen.

Time flows through us like water.
The past and the dead speak through us.
We breathe out our children’s children, blessing.

Blessed is the earth from which we grow,
Blessed the life we are lent,
blessed the ones who teach us,
blessed the ones we teach,
blessed is the word that cannot say the glory
that shines through us and remains to shine
flowing past distant suns on the way to forever.
Let’s say amen.

Blessed is light, blessed is darkness,
but blessed above all else is peace
which bears the fruits of knowledge
on strong branches, let’s say amen.

Peace that bears joy into the world,
peace that enables love, peace over Israel
everywhere, blessed and holy is peace, let’s say amen.

–Marge Piercy

from The Art of Blessing the Day: Poems with a Jewish Theme