I call my daughter because Carol left and somehow I felt connected to her even though I ditched her last night and almost ditched her again tonight.  So easy to slip into my old ways, to disappear, to withdraw.  This version of me, is always there waiting: I am here, I am here, saying I never went away.  And she didn’t.

Emma doesn’t answer the phone and I try to be okay with that.  I am too far away for anything else.  Besides what could I do if she needed me?  I’m lost too.

Today I went to the Jewish Cemetery, thinking of Sam.  I vaguely remember walking through with him years ago.  I text him a picture of the gravestones, the little rocks on the ledges.  He tells me they are to keep the souls in the ground so they don’t wander.  Wouldn’t you want to hear from a wandering soul? A soul you loved and still love.

I never dream of my father, nor feel him here.  When mom was sick and on the ventilator I saw him then, going into her room.  I told him that he looked good.  I don’t remember him saying anything back.  I will go and visit his gravesite when I am back.  Should I leave a stone, or knock them away to hear from him again.  Is it best to wander or be grounded?

Small moments  dissipate.  I remember bits of my time with Sam –in Rome, staying in some room somewhere, an old lady’s apartment, a pensione we found when we exited the train.  Sam always pulling me, and me following along, doing what he wanted, falling into him again and again, drowning.

Outside my window the boys downstairs holler, still hanging out the window drinking beer.