There’s a reason for prayer: to acknowledge the community inherent in solitude.
Today is Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year. A time to eat sweet things, to reflect upon the fullness of the past year and plan the fullness of the next. And the year is always full.
Today is Talia Goldenberg’s birthday. 24 years on the 24th. Except she’s not here to turn 24. She’s gone, and I’m here standing on the cusp of the year, and I’m crying about the fullness of absolute fucking feeling.
I’m happy, too. My throat is bursting with that bitter mixture of gratitude and grief. I’m here, and I’m happy, and I’m in love, and I’m somewhere.
I can’t deify the dead, and say what she would have said. I can’t bisect the moral of whatever this story is, into past and future.
Right now, I’m just saying I am. Here I am.
And I’m grateful for it.
In Mutual Weirdness 