How do I reconcile the untimely death of a friend?  A friend who is also a wife, mother and vital community presence.  How do I turn her death around and make it mean something more than just the standard fallback about the fact that life isn't fair?  It isn't.  We all know that.  Or that cancer is evil.  We know that, too.  How do I look at my children and my friend's children and let them know that somehow something useful will come out of this?  I have no idea.  What I do know is that my feelings of sadness are profound and my feeling of loss is overwhelming.  And maybe acknowledging that information is the right place to start.

Until yesterday, I thought of myself as in transition. I recently moved, have no idea what I want to do with my life, don't have a normal structure to my days and basically am full of self-pity and doom. Yesterday, however, it all changed. I went to a nearby Ivy League university to spend the afternoon with my 88 year old Great Aunt. She is in the final stages of a book that her late husband wasn't able to complete and that the University wants to publish. She has been working on research for that book and has recently completed the rewrite and CD rom conversion of her widely used Latin textbook. I wasn't sure how my petite Aunt would fare in my over-sized SUV or how I would do as her guide and entertainer, but those issues quickly dissolved the moment I picked her up. She took a moment to absorb my face, last seen by her 6 years ago, and into the car she hopped. Literally. She guided me to a couple of sites at the University that she she hadn't seen, took photos for her memory books, then announced that she would like to see my home and then visit my daughter at the bakery where she was doing an internship. So much for my fears of entertaining.

On Saturday night I got all dressed up to go out. I have been a little socially stagnant since we moved and I definitely was more excited to get out than the occasion warranted. I bought some new clothes, had my sister fed ex some amazing shoes and even had my hair done. I think I spent more energy on this particular Saturday night than I did on my own wedding. When it was all over, I didn't really nail the look I was going for. The skirt was a little too long, the hair was a little too big and all in all I looked kind of boring. Except the shoes. But my kids had watched me try on clothes all week, obsess over the various options, call my sister relentlessly for assistance, prepare them for a long night home without me and Dad. Essentially, they watched me blow the night way out of proportion. So, when I was finally dressed and ready to present myself, I wobbled down the stairs on my awesome heels and made my way to the kitchen to be admired by my frozen food dining children. And admired I was.

Since my son started first grade on the east coast, my whole family has had to change the way we motivate him.  It appears that finishing a task for the task's sake no longer has value, so our new technique starts there.  In the olden days, kindergarten, we used to simply remind him that it was his turn to feed the dogs or set the table or whatever.  And off he went.  It was the same in school.  He would remember to bake cookies to raise money for the rain forest because the rain forest needed our help.  He would rob our pantry of canned goods because his class was feeding a hungry family for Thanksgiving.  His motivation was out of a desire to do the thing he set out to do whether it was some small philanthropic endeavor or a mundane household chore. He had a task and a purpose and he accomplished his goal. End of story.  Until first grade.