I still miss your hugs.

I keep dreaming about Anna. Anyone else? It's almost 3 yrs. and I feel like it's only now hitting me fully. Like someone said then: I'd have sooner believed she'd have a Nobel Peace Prize by now than this. I miss her and I thank her for constantly reminding me to be grateful. It just makes no sense at all.

I keep reading about the new production of "Hair" and thinking that I'd drag her to go with me so we could relive our nights watching the movie at my apt. Maybe we should rally a group and go?

Times are tough for everybody but every time I catch myself complaining, I think what she'd tell me: "Suck it up boy." And then I think that it's a luxury to even have tough times. I wish she hadn't taught me that. But she did. I love you Anna and I know it's so selfish- but I could use one of your amazing full-bosomed hugs.

Anna's dreams

This Sunday marks two long years of missing Anna. This is a hard week of remembering, because the memories are the painful details of two years ago. But summer is here, and Anna was summer...we all have zillions of summer Anna memories. Here is a list of her dreams that I found in one of her journals. Summer dreams, all (well, except for snowboarding and the Knicks!)...

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Hiking on the salmon river
Oregon coast – hike in to fields sleep listen for seals
B’way shows – annie a chorus line, Oklahoma
Spend every summer on the beach
Snowboard
Do Puzzles
Have BBQs on summer evenings
Dance in summer rain
Watch for Oregon rainbows
Ride bikes – long rides too and camping
Read Charlotte’s Web together
Go see outdoor music concerts
Crafts: tie dye, batik, potato prints, make t-shirts make jewelry
Eat dinner together and talk about our days
Write/tell stories
Drive cross country
Play wiffleball
Go to a Knicks game
Go to a Mets/Yankees game

Mostly now I am worried I am not living full enough – where are my mountains, oceans, hikes, camping, ice-cold water, swims, running dogs, spicy foods, shining sun, snow boarding, organic salsa + chips + large pine trees
I crave these things
Sharing the love and joy of these experiences

I too want to live as madly as deeply as I can

Be so acutely aware of love and small pleasures – savoring the moments

Still able to be radical, and live freely, and still feel connected to the earth – the beautiful earth.

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Ruby and Dario, these are the things she did with you, and the things she wanted to spend 100 years doing with you. You are her love and joy.

The picture at the top of this post is from the forest in Oregon where a bunch of us (including Chico, Ruby, and Dario) are going camping this summer. We'll be sure to post pictures of us in this very spot looking for amphibians and rainbows!

Chico's Tattoo

This was taken on Chiq's cell phone a couple hours after it was done.

Little Man. Rrubah. Chico.

I can hear her voice so clearly in my head that sometimes it scares me.
The way she called Dario, Little Man.
The way she called Ruby, Rrubah.
And Chiq, Chico with her Spanish twang.
When I read things she wrote, it's like she is standing right next to me. I can hear her that crystal clear in my brain.

Hannah, today that grief hole is swallowing me whole.

For Dario, From Alicia

I came to NYC to visit Anna when Dario was about 8 months old. I couldn't believe how beautiful he was with his big long eyelashes. We spent a lot of time just lounging on the bed with Ruby--all three of us snuggling Dario. Ruby loved Dario so much and would say things like, "Dario is the best name ever!" She was really good with her brother, she seemed to love the role of snuggly cuddler and big sister protectress.

Anna told me that when she when the doctors told her about Dario's heart condition she thought to herself, "my life will never be the same again."

I was really impressed with Dario's class at Bank Street. Anna put Dario in the baby front pack and off we went to catch the bus, Ruby dancing ahead of us the whole way in her rainbow skirt and "Dump Bush!" t-shirt. Dario sat in the circle with Anna and sang the welcome song. He was only eight months old! but he clearly loved school and I remember how Anna would breast feed him in the back room. When we left him at school he was in the little croissant pillow propped up and when we came back he was the still propped up clapping his hands and having a grand time! It had been over four hours!

Anna loved being a mom so much.

For Hanukkah she told me she lit the candles on her bicycle-menorah with the kids and said a funny blessing: "Baruch Hanukkah biking candles shalom" -- something like that.

When we were in college Anna was doing some kind of college service work for whatever reason and it involved having lunch with potential students who were visiting for the day. I remember that she was really impressed by one girl whose mother had died when the girl was very young. Anna was impressed by how serious, mature, and strong she seemed. After their lunch Anna really wanted to talk about the girl and how she'd been so moved by her. Anna linked the girl's impressive integrity to the death of her mother and having to go through that at such a young age. I think that was pretty unusual--for someone to make such an impression on Anna. I think about it now and think about how proud Anna would be of Dario and Ruby--and of course Chiq. For how brave they are. And I hope it will give the kids the diamond pure strength and beauty that Anna saw in that girl who also lost her mom.

The Prince

Anna sent this on october 23, 2003 :

"My stinky old mutt,
a prince among dogs.
His beautiful spirit outlived his ailing body.
Truly loved & truly loving.

found: April 26, 1994 Portland, OR
lost: October 20, 2003 South Salem, NY

my first love..."

I was always terrified of Puppa. Was it that if I went to hug Anna he would try to bite my butt off? Was it because if I made any movement that resembled dancing, he would try to rip my throat out? Or was it that strangely human look in his eye?

Maybe it was because Anna loved him so much that I knew that he must be a creature of superior quality.

....No, he was a little scary.

Gratitude

I remember Anna from college. Her and Emilio and Nelson and I don't remember who else would have me over for dinner in their big shambling house. Lauren was there usually and Julia and Hannah. Great tasting food was served in heaping portions, and I would drink wine until I was happily drunk. The thing I loved most was that everyone who came had some particular brand of eccentricity or quark, some creative dis-ease, and were equally embraced as part of this wonderful extended family. It was a safe place, where I remember breathing easier, outside all the self-judgement of that time in my life. I always thought that Anna set the tone. She was like a mother, even then, regal in her idiosyncrasy and understanding. She was solid, playful, wise, generous, and passionate. She embodied the values I've always cherished, and brought them into those settings in a palpable, nonjudging way: integrity, generosity, community, hope. She did it with so much love, was instrumental in creating and holding this space. I loved her for that, and for the closeness she made possible. I always felt some recognition of the type that goes unexplained in this little life, one of those big essential feelings that seems too obvious and deep and healing and real for words. The word that says it best is gratitude.

--From Frank M., a friend from Reed, who sent this memory to Nina last fall

Anna's Heart

I thought this story was from our Bank Street days, but I see the film wasn't made until 1984 so I guess Anna and I were in high school. (We managed to stay in close touch throughout high school, even though I went to Trinity and Anna headed to the East side!)...

We went to Loews to see the Mel Gibson film, "The River," about a family battling to hold on to their farm in the face of economic hardship. Not surprisingly, as the story developed, the family had to pack up their belongings and livestock, and cross a river in driving rain. Unfortunately their cow didn't make it across.

About 45 minutes after the river-crossing scene, the plot and landscape had changed considerably, and things were looking up for the family, I looked over at Anna and her face was completely wet.

"Why are you crying?" I whispered.

"Because the cow died," Anna whispered back.

That was Anna's heart.



(Post written by Paulette, who doesn't yet understand how to post herself)