At a loss
When I was in LA, my friend Robert Avrech and I headed straight for our regular hangout: Pico Kosher Deli. PKD was Robert’s late son Ariel’s favourite place to eat, and with pastrami sandwiches five inches thick and the best coleslaw in the world, I can see why. I’m always the only gentile in the building, but never feel awkward about it.
Robert’s wife, Karen, usually joins us at PKD, but work kept her away that night. “How is Karen?” I asked Robert. I didn’t like his answer, and Karen herself has now blogged about it:
I wrote about Ariel in the “Book of Ariel” knowing that each year would bring new feelings. Now after three years, I see I was right. Time has not healed the pain. It has done the opposite. Time has finally allowed me to feel the pain.
Initially there is a period of shock. I believe that the body actually preserves itself from too much pain by blocking memories. For the first year I was numb. For the second year, I had difficulty evoking integrated memories of Ariel. It sounds bizarre, but I had to struggle to actually imagine him in his vitality and conjure up the life we had together.
Now after three years, I am finally able to integrate the various parts of him and feel his presence. Now, after three long years I can finally evoke his laughter, his voice, his movements, his stance, his tears. I can imagine the continuum from his babyhood through his illness, his recovery until the final year. It is more painful. It is unbearable but I am no longer blocked.
I have no idea how to help friends in this kind of need.