366 DAYS

Today it’s been one full year since a bright star left us. I’ve lived long enough to witness plenty of unfairness in life, plenty of horrible things happening to wonderful people. But your story was particularly sad and tough and difficult to witness. Little things pop up in my mind. The way you moved your head to get that incredibly beautiful hair out of the way as you worked on your bench right there by mine. You walking around the lab with headphones singing (probably a bit louder than you imagined) those beautiful songs you were soon going to perform on stage. Your laughter that involved your whole body. Not very many people laugh like that. I think about you a lot, and I think about your Mom and Dad a lot too. I am not sure how a parent survives the loss of a child. I hope they find some comfort in knowing you’ve touched the lives of many.

Dr. Aritri Majumdar, December 2018

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I really love this picture, taken many years ago. The last visit to my home country when Mom and Dad were still reasonably healthy and happy. Since that picture was taken, my Dad has left us in a shocking, unexpected departure. He probably never even realized he was leaving us. I was not able to arrive for the funeral, something that haunts me still. Now, on May 18th, one day after she and my Dad would celebrate 74 years of marriage, my Mom passed away. The worst nightmares for those who immigrate leaving behind their whole family, are moments like this. Am I going to arrive in time to say goodbye? But that’s such a small component of it. The whole guilty feeling of being away and unable to help your family, that is like a sleeping monster that wakes up and shows its sharp teeth in these incredibly sad times. However, I am trying to focus on the fact that I was able to see her while she was still conscious, and that she was so happy to see me… 

I am not religious. I am atheist and agnostic. Still I feel they are together now, not for some type of eternal after life, but because in my mind they are in the same spot. A bittersweet spot, in which only memories sooth the pain of their absence. 

I am grateful for everything they both did for me. And for the wonderful family they built together. 

Life goes on…

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We were 19 years old and deeply in love.  This was our song.

I’ve been so many places in my life and time
I’ve sung a lot of songs I’ve made some bad rhyme
I’ve acted out my love on stages
With ten thousand people watching
But we’re alone now and I’m singing a
song for you


I love you in a place
Where there’s no space or time
I love you for in my life
You are a friend of mine

And when my life is over
Remember when we were together
We were alone and I was singing a
song for you
We were alone and I was singing a
song for you

lagonegroGramado, Rio Grande do Sul, Brasil.  Memories of 1983.

Rest in peace, my  first love.  I will never forget you.

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I normally schedule my posts to go live a few days in advance. Tonight at midnight a post on sourdough bread would go live.  It will not.  A dear friend of mine, a blogger who loves to bake bread as much as I do, lost a grandson, a 6-year-old little boy,  in the devastating tragedy of Newtown. No bread post today. Instead, a post to  send her the warmest virtual hug I can possibly offer. Life is unbearably cruel sometimes.  And gun control a step our society should stop running away from. Once and for all.

Edited to add:  a fund has been created to help the families affected by this tragedy. Click here if you want to contribute.

Donations to help the family of my friend’s grandson, Noah, can be made by clicking here. In this link you can also read more about beautiful Noah, the youngest victim of this tragedy.

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