Cancer eats away at my family. All of my grandparents so far plus a
great-aunt and assorted distant relatives have died from it. My
cousin’s husband died this week. 2 in one week. Grandmother. Lou.
wtfwtfwtf. It scares me. He went to the doctor’s because he had a
headache and they told him that not only did he have cancer but that it
had spread throughout his entire body and was incurable. SURPRISE.
No one recognized me at the funeral today. I’ve just grown up so
quickly since they last saw me at Passover. Ha. I feel the same. I
don’t want to be an adult just yet. I’ve always acted like one, anyway
so I don’t know what my problem is. I’ve perfected the art of doing
what I’m supposed to or what is expected of me. Most of the time I’m
happy to do it, it’s only respectful. But when everyone’s watching you
because 500 million people are friends with your mother or father (as
is the case in my family and synagouge) it can become to feel like I’m
a diplomat’s daughter and that can feel like a burden.
Shivahs this week. 2 for my grandmother. 1 for Lou. I have to be
strong. Act a certain way. Hold people together. It’s what I do. People
are watching. Expecting.
I’m glad I have my friends at my grandmother’s shivah so I can just
hide in my room and forget that the saddness that fills my household
and surrounds my mother.