September 21,2013

Approaching the seventh anniversary of Elizabeth's death, it is hard to understand that she never heard Adele sing, or saw Julia Louis Dreyfus in the Veep, or watched a single episode of Girls.  Popular culture is something we shared, and I relied on Elizabeth, as much as a mother could rely on her teen daughter without being able to follow everything of her taste, to understand what was going on.  Now I listen to students at school discuss things, to navigate what is current.  I always find myself asking, what would Elizabeth think?  Most recently I wonder about Lake Bell, (what a name!) and how E would have liked In a World.  There is something about Bell's writing talent and offhand beauty that reminds me of her.


  1. Seven years. I know it's true because the clock ticks on. I cannot imagine that clock being stopped. I'm so sorry for you and for her father, and for the world that carries on, diminished without her presence. For a child so loved brings much to this world.

  2. I saw the comet fly miraculously last nite. It made me feel it was Lizzie swimming so gracefully looking on us all. We are blessed to have you in our lives. Love always!


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How Dina Aunty relished her memories. Mummy and Daddy were the same, talking about their yesterdays and smiling in that sad-happy way while selecting each picture, each frame from the past, examining it lovingly before it vanished again in the mist. But nobody ever forgot anything, not really, though sometimes they pretended, when it suited them. Memories were permanent. Sorrowful ones remained sad even with the passing of time, yet happy ones could never be re-created—not with the same joy. Remembering bred its own peculiar sorrow. It seemed so unfair: that time should render both sadness and happiness into a source of pain.

> From A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry