When Cameron Was In Egypt Land…
Why was last night different than all other nights?
Because last night was the second night of Passover, and for the second night in a row, I drove my grandma home after our menagerie of matzoh.
That was my dad’s job.
And now it’s mine.
Earlier in the evening, everyone sat around the table – ate, laughed and pretended to be religious for fifteen minutes.
However, I also felt like banging my fists on the table and screaming, “Holy fuck Batman, how are we all acting so normal?”
Maybe that’s what happens when you lose a loved one. Eventually, everything clicks back into place and you just roll with it. Even if it clicks a bit differently than it used to.
Your mom cooks for the family by herself, your brother-in-law hides the matzoh so the kids can scramble to find it, and you get into your dad’s car and drive your grandma back to her apartment in Long Beach.
Life goes on.
But with that said, I once again walked downstairs this morning, and literally felt my dad sitting at the kitchen table. Wearing his blue bathrobe, reading the Times, and eating lots of eggs and gross onions.
Everyone says in due time, things will feel normal again.
That’s the last thing I want to feel.
Normalcy might tarnish my memories. And I need them to remain digitally clear.
Because they’re all I have left.
“In Live Like a Fruit Fly, Gabe Berman shares his recipe for living a more joyful, worthwhile, and abundant life in every way. A witty, entertaining, and insightful read.” — Deepak Chopra, Author, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success