tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903222.post112774624893554185..comments2024-02-27T14:56:21.864-08:00Comments on Loving, Losing, and Living: No News and Good NewsSusan (Sara) Avitzourhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178913845437517694noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903222.post-1128139530665092772005-09-30T21:05:00.000-07:002005-09-30T21:05:00.000-07:00Sara, I write this as I peek through my tears...wh...Sara, I write this as I peek through my tears...what a gift, to be able to so eloquently describe your split feelings. It's exactly what so many feel while greivng, but do not allow themselves to express. I hope you realize how your writings will touch other people, and give them permission to know that it's okay to feel happy and sad at the same time. I'm glad you are able to know that...as always, I so admire your honesty and willingness to share what's in your heart.<BR/>Randicruisin-momhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16640061323519954002noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903222.post-1127796764464080182005-09-26T21:52:00.000-07:002005-09-26T21:52:00.000-07:00Dear Sara,All of your words move me. I rarely com...Dear Sara,<BR/>All of your words move me. I rarely comment here because I don't think there's anything I can write that would matter; all of my words, my own petty frustrations, pale in comparison to the grief you still suffer every day. But I read your blog faithfully, and you and your family are often in my thoughts and prayers. As we approach yet another New Year, I wish you a Shana Tova, a good and sweet year filled with comforting memories of the past, and a year in which you create beautiful new memories to carry forward into the future.<BR/>best,<BR/>-annabel leeAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903222.post-1127787972973992152005-09-26T19:26:00.000-07:002005-09-26T19:26:00.000-07:00Sara, it so happens that I wrote to you earlier to...Sara, it so happens that I wrote to you earlier tonight before I ever read this post...<BR/><BR/>"After that, I danced like a split personality – one Sara happy and grateful to have the privilege of taking part here and now in this lovely wedding, and the other Sara mourning the wedding that will never be. I danced a crazy person’s dance: two steps to your right – joy, two steps to your left – grief; right foot – laugh; left foot – sob; right – smile; left – cry. But I kept dancing."<BR/><BR/>How you've captured what might be called "the mourner's dance" -- it's no doubt a true depiction of what bereaved parents and bereaved siblings and bereaved spouses feel at a simcha.<BR/><BR/>As a writer and reader myself, I honestly think you should consider taking this particular (present-day) post, work it over just a bit, and submit it to a magazine -- not necessarily an exclusively Jewish magazine, but a women's magazine or just a general family magazine. It conveys so much and so many people could relate. Make it one of your "New Year's resolutions" if you must.torontopearlhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12246510242496347242noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903222.post-1127782984491992792005-09-26T18:03:00.000-07:002005-09-26T18:03:00.000-07:00Dear Sara, I have said it about you previously but...Dear Sara, <BR/><BR/>I have said it about you previously but will gladly reiterate how phenomenonally remarkable you are! To be able to draw so abundantly from the wellspring of courage, butressed by such emunah and bitachon in the face of unimaginable adversity ... leaves me not only in awe of you personally but of all the b'not Yisroel who have borne our nation's calamities with the quiet dignity and resolve to continue living life.<BR/><BR/>The death of a child represents not only the tragic loss of that particular existential moment, the present tense of our child's life ... but the unalterable erasure of her/his future, of our futures as their parents denied the naches of witnessing our children taking their rightful places in the world; all of the 'what might have beens' forever ... never to be! It is an enormous and lamentable reality!!<BR/><BR/>My own daughter Kimberly echoed your words Sara ... while reflecting that she is already three years older than her big brother, that every enjoyment, every sweetness is at best a bitter sweetness ... that Ben was so young, as was Timmi, ... never to know the exhilaration of dancing at their own weddings, of the love of a spouse, of their first baby ... <BR/><BR/>Please forgive my interminable blatherings, but I was so moved by your account of the wedding ... I remain <BR/><BR/>Sincerely yours, <BR/><BR/>Alan D. BuschAlan aka Avrum ben Avrumhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12052748301969117668noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903222.post-1127752981321575962005-09-26T09:43:00.000-07:002005-09-26T09:43:00.000-07:00Difficult though your blog is to write, I'd like t...Difficult though your blog is to write, I'd like to let you know that I discovered it a couple of months ago and I've read every post with great interest. Your words have been very meaningful and special to read<BR/><BR/>In the mid-90's, I ran a computer bulletin board (kind of like a mini CompuServe, with about 1,200 customers) and one of our subscribers was a young man who had leukemia. Alan was a tremendous person. He was witty, smart, funny and very politically aware for someone so young. He became very active in our online community because much of his treatment left his immune system in a state that he wasn't allowed to be around people.<BR/><BR/>Alan's leukemia was hard to get into remission the first time. They tried all the standard chemotherapies and none worked. They eventually moved on to some very hard experimental treatments. The treatments had horrendous side effects, but finally did get him into remission.<BR/><BR/>When he was doing well, the members of our electronic community rejoiced. When he was doing poorly, we'd send emails and call, and make visits to the hospital when appropriate. Once, I even smuggled a laptop into his room in the hospital so he could take his turn playing an online game.<BR/><BR/>Eventually, the leukemia returned, and Alan passed away in his early 20s. It was 1997, and BBS systems were going the way of the dinosaur. Although the system was no longer able to pay its own bills, I kept the board online, because it was so important to him. A few months after he passed, I shut the system down for good, since the economics of running it had become impossible.<BR/><BR/>Reading your blog has reminded me very much of both the tremendously sad and wonderful times with Alan. It's stories like yours that keep the memories of children, loved ones and special friends alive, and I thank you for your blog.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com