Sally's Circle

A Jew goes to church

2011-08-20T15:41:00.007-04:00

I went to church today. Yes, you remember correctly: I'm Jewish. But my Italian neighborhood is flooded with the most beautiful churches, and ever since moving here, I've found their architecture and open doors alluring. But I've never gone in, afraid of being "outed" as Jew, even though I know the church is open to everyone.

Today, I passed my favorite church: a massive structure that looks like it's lived there forever. "Open prayer and meditation, 2-4PM," the sign outside said. I passed by, again chickening out.

But it's been a tough week. Yesterday was the anniversary of when Sally died, and today is the anniversary of the funeral. My heart is heavy. Not even a block later, I turned around and walked back to the church.

Empty except for a woman tidying pamphlets with downcast eyes, the church was dark and dusty with small bits of afternoon sunlight streaming through the stained glass. I chose an aisle seat in the middle section of pews, self-conscious when the wood creaked as I sat down.

I looked around, in awe of this church I had always longed to visit. But only a minute later, I realized my eyes were closed, and I was crying.

When I opened my eyes again, I noticed two curious things. First, a small sign on the back of the first section of pews that read 22 with an arrow pointing to the bottom right. 22 is the number I associate with my mom, who was born on 2/22, and I notice it often in the time (2:22), address numbers (22, 222), and other places. It always comforts me. Second thing I noticed: a book in front of every seat, "Hymnal 1982," the same year I was born, the year Sally gave birth to her little girl.

I heard Sally tell me, "See, I am here if you look for me. But if you don't look for me, I can't be here." I understood: It is up to me to keep her alive. That is my responsibility. Look and you shall receive.

Oh the anniversary

2011-08-19T23:29:00.002-04:00

Oh the anniversary. It comes every year and fills me with dread. As early as August 1st I sense it, and then wait until the 19th can finally come and go.

My mom always told me the loss of her parents got easier once she met my dad and had kids. I guess I thought being engaged would make me at peace with Mother's Day and the anniversary. And then I feel disappointed--in life, in myself--that those days are still so tough.

I also get stubborn. Nine years later it is hard to truly believe the common sayings: she's with you, she knows, talk to her. BULLSHIT I want to scream (but I am a lady and keep that to myself, thankyouverymuch). I don't think I've felt angry about her death until I got engaged. And now I feel so jipped, so belatedly.

I tried today. When my watch, which was her watch, scraped the silver subway grate beside my seat not once, not twice, but three times on my morning commute, I wondered if Sally was there. When my coworker announced she got engaged, and as we celebrated over champagne toasts, it might have been Sally showing me that goodness and joy still exist and make life worthwhile. And when thunder rocked the sky as I ran down the street leaving work, I thought of Sally, who was as forceful and fearless and "phenomenal" (my cousin Julia's description) as that thunder.

It might not be the Hollywood version, where the person appears to you in a beautiful moonlit river, or sits perched high atop a billboard, and answers all your unanswered questions and is so alive that it's scary and familiar all at once. But maybe it's my version, and I have to take it for what it is.

Here comes the bride, all dressed in...?

2011-08-17T23:27:00.008-04:00

In case you're wondering how wedding dress shopping went... well, as I find with most things related to grief, the anticipation is the worst part. So, after a week or so of nerves for my first excursion, the actual day was an assortment of feelings:

Excitement: My friends' enthusiasm cheered me throughout the day. They oohed, they ahhed, they welled up, they scrunched their noses at the ones we all knew were hideous. And even though our tastes are all different from one another, they kept in mind what I like and what will reflect my personality. I really appreciated that.

Confusion: The more dresses you try on, the more confused you get! Chiffon, lace, strapless, sweetheart, halter, a-line, ballgown... and those are only the terms I can remember. While I did find some good options, I don't know that I've found "the dress," so there will be more shopping ahead. Which leads me to...

Exhaustion: Blame it on a week of pre-dress anxiety, the art of speed-waking the streets of Manhattan to race to the next appointment, the physicality of stepping in and out of dress after dress, or the momentary feelings of loss, but all those things combined left me one tired lady. Phew.

Grief: While I didn't consciously think of my mom while trying on dresses, I'm beginning to think that inside every bride is a little girl who can't believe that's really her in the mirror. And in some ways, she needs her mother to verify that she's all grown up and ready for this big adventure--basically, to kick her out of the nest. I guess without her, I've been out of the nest for a while, but the sudden shift from child to adult can still be alarming at times. Especially when wearing a white gown.

So, next month will bring another round of shopping... any tips?

Say Stress to the Dress

2011-08-12T23:35:00.004-04:00

I'm going wedding dress shopping for the first time tomorrow. Most girls seem to live for this moment, having dreamed of it since they were little. And even I have found myself glued to episodes of "Say Yes to the Dress" and worshiping the holy books: bridal magazines. But tonight, I feel nervous.

Yes, I will have my two companions with me tomorrow. Girls who've known me since I was 13, who've been there through the best and worst times, and who even attended the last party that celebrated me in a white dress: my bat-mitzvah.

But every other girl I know has tried on bridal gowns in front of her mother, has emerged twirling from dressing rooms to oohs and ahhs from the one woman on this planet who thinks her daughter simply can't look bad in anything she tries on. If things were different, I know I would have gone with Sally.

At 29, nine years after she passed, shouldn't I be accustomed to this way of life? Or will I always cry the night before big milestones like these?

Ring, ring

2011-01-12T16:33:00.005-05:00

This is the red rotary phone that used to sit on Sally's nightstand.

If I could make just one call to her right now it would be:

"Mom... I'm getting married."

Stepmom

2010-09-28T23:13:00.004-04:00

The night my mom was diagnosed with cancer, before I went to bed I told her, "I guess this means I can't watch 'Stepmom' ever again." The Julia Roberts flick was a favorite of ours. We laughed and welled up and went to bed. Two a half years later, she was gone.

Now it's been eight years since she died, and my prophecy has come true: As of Friday, October 1, I will have a stepmom. Her name is Susan and she's about to become my dad's wife and a stepmom to me and my brother.

I wish I could tell my mom that having a stepmom isn't at all like the movie 'Stepmom', or the evil women in Disney flicks, or the other horror stories you may hear. For me, having Susan is a second chance for my dad to have a wife, and a second chance for me to have a mom. It means one day I'll have someone to help me plan a wedding or calm a colicky kid or, for now, just to call on my lunch break for a midday chit-chat and some laughs. As a lot of you know, few things in life are as simple and wonderful as a mother-daughter chit-chat.

I miss my mom, and I especially miss her this week, and as my brother so wisely said, I'll always miss her. But I know she would be so happy and welcoming to my family's newest member.

Susan, you're stuck with us, and we're so lucky to have you.

Father's Day

2010-06-20T00:24:00.006-04:00

Hi everyone,

In honor of Father's Day, I invited a special guest blogger to join us. It is Mark's cousin, Marcy. Although many states separate us, we are bonded together through the loss of a parent, a love of running, and the joy of sharing laughs. I know you'll love her as much as I do... so please welcome Marcy.

In 1994, my father passed away at the young age of 51. He had been sick for many months, and while watching a loved one suffer is terrible, I am grateful I had the time and space to say goodbye. I was 16, and while I was old enough to understand how intense his illness was, I was also young enough to lack much insight into the impact this would have on the rest of my life.

There are a lot of terrific memories I associate with Father’s Day and my dad. My dad and I would often go running together, and since my short kid-legs could not keep up, Dad would run circles around me when I walked off a muscle cramp. When I was about 4, we ran a 3-mile race together, and I recall being terrified of running across a wooden bridge over a stream. Despite the cheers of encouragement of a bunch of grown-ups on the other side, I froze. Dad grabbed me, lifted me up, and carried me over the bridge and then we continued on side by side.

In addition to running, Dad loved sailboats. One afternoon, I came home from junior high school and found most of the furniture moved out of our living room. Dad had used masking tape to mark the floor plan of an imaginary sailboat on the carpet. He measured it out and scaled it to fit the room, and made it look as real as he could -- including moving the portable toilet for his actual sailboat into the outlined space of the “head” (bathroom). He announced our family was going to sail around the world. Much to my pre-teen horror, we gathered around in the “boat” after dinner and Dad charted the initial course on a map, explained our responsibilities, and assigned us watch shifts (this included entering information in the logbook and working as a team). I thought he had lost his mind. Perhaps he had, but the point was he was trying to pass on a dream of his to me and my brother, and in this eccentric and unbelievable fashion, did so in the most practical way he could.

Later on in my teenage years, the faux boat became a real boat. Dad had found an article in a sailing magazine that explained how to build a boat in 5 hours. The time estimate was quite inaccurate; I recall it taking many months. We measured, cut, hand-planed, glued, sanded and finished the hull, keel, mast, boom, rudder, and oars out of wood. I learned that it takes a long time to locate the perfect piece of lumber to make a sailboat mast -- I knew this because we went to at least a dozen lumber yards until we found it. And we didn't neglect decor. Dad was mildly amused when I insisted on painting the boat interior and bottom purple. I also insisted on making the sails out of cotton bed sheets -- so I could tie-dye them purple.

It has been over 15 years since my father died. I am still learning about his life and his death, and how both have influenced me. At the time of his death, I was quite aware that he would not be around for holidays, graduations, and other important events. The first few Father’s Day holidays that passed included sadness and tears. More recently, Father’s Day sneaks up on me and I realize it is coming at the last minute. There may still be important events where his presence is missed, but it seems my energy has shifted to examining the ways he still influences me, which facilitates some unexpected healing and contentment.

Last year, I started a year-long training journey with the end goal of completing an Ironman (a 140-mile triathalon: a 2.4-mile swim, a 112-mile bike ride, and a 26-mile marathon). Most people think this journey is crazy. What do the masking-tape sailboat “trip”, the tie-dyed purple sails, and training for an Ironman have in common? Is completing an Ironman as crazy as masking taping a fake boat on the living room floor? When anticipation, creativity, patience, and resilience collide, is the result an Ironman?

Contemplating my memories of Dad and how they integrate into my current life seem to make Father’s Day easier. On this Father’s Day, I will go for a run, maybe spend some time family and friends, mull over more memories and perhaps discover some more connections between being a Daddy’s girl in the past and life as it is today.

Take good care-

Marcy

Mother's Day

2010-05-08T18:56:00.003-04:00

Hi there,

I know this might be a tough weekend for some, and the first thing I want to say is that I hear ya and I'm sorry and if I could hug you, I would.

For the weeks leading up to Mother's Day, I've felt pretty OK about the holiday coming up. I chose to roll my eyes at the Hallmark commercials instead of getting choked up. And it was working, I think.

But today it's a bit much. Every store in my neighborhood is selling flowers, plants, greeting cards, brunch specials, mani-pedi's for two... I could go on. I went out this afternoon to run an errand and practically ran back home. I don't think I'll venture back out there. I have plenty of papers to grade, and renting a movie tonight sounds pretty good anyway.

Tomorrow I'll get together with my dad and his girlfriend Susan and a bunch of her relatives. This has been our tradition the past few years, and despite it being a hard day, I'm looking forward to it. I like having something to do on these holidays, and I like spending it with Susan. She is a mom-like figure to me, and we've had a lot of fun lately on little shopping sprees or chit-chats on the phone. She makes a special effort to make sure I'm busy on Mother's Day and invite me to whatever they're doing, and that means a lot to me.

So, what should you do this weekend and tomorrow? I don't know if I have a golden rule for you. I would say to do what you feel comfortable doing. If you feel like staying home in your PJs and watching old movies, enjoy your solitude. If you feel like seeing family or friends, take comfort in their company. If you want to visit a cemetery or donate to a charity, go for it.

To me, it's always been important to take time to be sad (I will go for a run tomorrow morning, and there will probably be tears) and take time to be happy (I will see my Dad and Susan and instantly laugh at their Seinfeld-like bickering, and later I'll get to play with Susan's cute grandkids).

I'll be thinking of you. And in that way, none of us will be alone tomorrow.

Love,
Marisa

My professor passed away

2010-05-08T18:38:00.002-04:00

It's with sadness that I report that Professor Glavin, the professor I mentioned in my last post who was sick with cancer, passed away yesterday on May 7, 2010. He was 67 and had been a magazine professor at Syracuse University for 37 years. Under his cynical grumbles he had a big heart, especially when it came to his students. They were his world. And, in fact, he donated a great deal of his estate to the school and a fund that allows interns to afford internships.

I found out the news yesterday at work and decided to take a walk. Lucky for me, Central Park is two blocks away. I called Mark to tell him. Or, really, just to hear his voice.

"I hope he's in a better place," I said, which felt cliche but seemed right.

"Better than Syracuse?" Mark joked, a nod to the snow capital of the universe known for gray skies and SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder).

"Does such a place even exist?" I teased.

We shared a laugh, and that felt like the kind of tribute Glavin would have liked. In the email announcing his passing, this sentiment stuck with me: "The best way to remember and honor him will be to live your lives, love your work, and write fiercely and passionately about the topics that matter most to you." I feel thankful that I found a new job which will allow me to do this.

I wrote Glavin a letter two weeks ago in hopes that a distraction might do him good. Not wanting to get too sappy, I instead relayed a story to him about a college experience that made an impact on me. In my first class with Glavin, we had to write a big research paper on a magazine of our choice. I chose Modern Drummer and traveled to New Jersey to meet the founder and editor-in-chief of the publication, Ron Spagnardi. He was a lovely gentleman who inspired me to continue pursuing journalism as my career. I told Glavin that I'm thankful to him and Ron for being mentors throughout my career.

What I didn't tell Glavin was that Ron passed away several years ago of cancer. My hope now is that they might get to meet, shake hands, and shoot the shit for a bit.

Saying goodbye to teaching

2010-05-03T23:17:00.004-04:00

Hi there,

Today was my last official day of teaching -- well, at least for now. I've spent the past year as a professor at Syracuse University's S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications, teaching a brand new class called Writing and Editing for Magazine Websites. What an incredible journey it has been.

I mostly taught the class long-distance from Brooklyn using Skype, but today I came up to Syracuse to wish my students farewell on their last day of class.

My day ended with a happy hour at a local bar, Faegan's, filled with students from the fall and spring semesters. To me, it felt like the ending of the movie "Big Fish," when all the characters the father has ever known gather at the river for his send-off to heaven. It seemed fitting that my time at Syracuse would end with the students. After all, they were the most fulfilling part of this whole experience: seeing their work, watching them thrive, and discovering the many talents each of them possessed.

Today was also a somber day, as one of my beloved professors is sick with cancer. Walking through the halls of Newhouse made me reflect on his influence on me as a student, editor, writer, and, most recently, teacher. I can't imagine Newhouse without him chain-smoking outside the building and eagerly showing Harry Potter movie trailers to his classes (he was obsessed -- read this article about him to see how much!). When I emailed him to tell him how much I loved teaching, he responded: "I am glad that you are enjoying teaching. I have always loved it, because of the students. They are always great."

I will pause in my teaching career in order to focus on my new full-time job, which I start on Wednesday. I am sad to say goodbye to teaching, but excited to start my new job. I feel proud of the path I've traveled in the past year, and it makes me look forward to where the path might go from here. Hopefully teaching will be part of that path again at some point.

I know all good things must come to an end, but part of me feels so nostalgic today. What do you do to make saying goodbye to an experience or person a bit easier?

Love from the 'Cuse,
Marisa

A time of transition

2010-04-25T18:35:00.002-04:00

Happy Sunday! I hope you're all having a nice, relaxing evening as you prepare for the week.

I actually can't quite share in your Sunday night jitters tonight, since I'm on my mini-vacation between jobs. I left my position as a web editor at Prevention.com and will become the web manager for a personal finance expert. I'm very excited for this change, and even more excited to have this time off between jobs to breathe and gear up for the new gig.

I also feel lucky, as I have great cheerleaders by my side:

Mark took me out for a celebration dinner at Prime House New York, a fancy steakhouse where we both agree we had the best date of our lives (at least so far!). We met at the bar for a cocktail, and then enjoyed a delicious meal from appetizers to dessert. I'm not the biggest meat lover, but the steak there would be hard even for a vegetarian to resist! And, Mark, as always, was a great date: handsome and charming and making me crack up.

Dad and Susan became my wardrobe consultants when I went out to Long Island to visit them. To make sure I look schnazzy for the new job, they whisked me off to White House Black Market, Banana Republic, and Lord & Taylor. I felt like they were my Clinton and Stacy from "What Not to Wear"! At each store, they found comfy seats outside the dressing room and flashed their thumbs up or down. So, if you like my outfit, compliment them!

Laura and Shari started off my vacation with a BBQ at Laura's new apartment in Park Slope (10 minutes away from me!). Best friends since 13, the three of us have truly been through thick and thin together. We shared burgers, laughs, and planned more details for our upcoming trip to Paris in July -- our first European trip as a trio. Watch out, France!

So, as I continue to gear up for my new challenge, I hope this time of transition might also be a time of more blogging. We have two holidays coming up that can be challenging, Mother's Day and Father's Day, and I want to be sure we're here for each other through those days. If there's something on your mind, or you're looking for advice or just an ear to listen, feel free to post a comment (you can post anonymously) or drop me an email.

'Til then, have a good evening and let's talk soon.

P.S. Who are your cheerleaders? Give them a shout out below!

Sally's big, loud, crazy laugh

2010-04-01T16:16:00.003-04:00

I may be known as "that girl who's always giggling," but I can't help it. It's in my genes.

Sally had a laugh to remember. Think back to the last time something sent you into hysterics. That was Sally's everyday laugh. This petite 5'1, 104 lb woman belted out guffaws that would echo through a restaurant, causing us kids to slouch a little lower in our seats, smothering our own giggles behind menus and paper diner napkins.

I heard her laugh last night. In my dream, she made a dirty joke about underwear that sent her into one of her famous shout-shriek laughs.

It's been almost 8 years since I've heard that laugh, and yet it rang so clear. It's amazing what you can remember in the relaxed calm of sleep. I woke up feeling so lucky to have heard from her. And if she's laughing, I imagine all is good in her 'hood.

Song of the day: "Dreams" cover by Cat Power

Does clothing carry memories?

2010-03-25T17:07:00.007-04:00

Hi all,

I just read a great piece in the New York Times Magazine called Dress to Regress: A Photographer's Fashion Flashbacks. It focuses on "My Mother's Clothes," a book of photo and essays a daughter put together in honor of her late mother, who passed of Alzheimer's. Originally, the daughter compiled the photos to help her mom's memory loss -- surprisingly, even though she was having trouble recalling family members, she could remember very specific details about the garments and occasions surrounding them. How neat is that?

Though my mom was not nearly the elegant, Jackie 0 fashionista the mom in this book was (no offense, Sally), she did certainly love shopping. Always on the hunt for a good bargain, she frequented Marshall's and The Gap. We really enjoyed mother-daughter shopping trips together, either after school or on the weekends, and often purchased the same items. I used to tease her as a teen that she bought everything I bought, just a few sizes bigger. At 5'1 and 104 pounds, she was so petite she could fit in the junior's section!

Cleaning out Sally's closet was a trip down memory lane. My dad and I tackled it shortly after she passed, probably knowing that if we didn't do it right away, it might sit frozen in time forever. There was also something healing about giving away her clothing to charity. Sometimes I think back and worry, "Should I have taken more things? Will I wish I had them one day?" Then I tell myself that it was better to give them to people in need, that they would have just sat in my closet taking up space. I did save her jewelry and scarves, and other random things like socks (I love socks, it's true!), and those are special to me.

Did you keep any clothing of someone who passed? Can you think back to a garment that person wore and remember them in a stronger way?

My advice to aspiring journalists and writers

2010-03-24T14:50:00.002-04:00

Hi everyone!

Thanks for all the safe flight wishes. I made it back and forth to Syracuse safely, thanks to your good thoughts -- and maybe Sally's texts. I think I was there for a total of 18 hours (what a whirlwind!), but it was very rewarding to meet with the students face-to-face (normally I teach long-distance via Skype) and visit my old campus again.

While I was there, I was asked to star in a video series called "One Thing" where professionals or alumni give their one piece of advice to incoming students. Since I'm both a professional AND an alumni, I was greedy and gave two pieces of advice!

Click here to watch my video!

Signs from the sky or an Asian hacker?

2010-03-22T10:19:00.003-04:00

I'm sitting in the JFK Jet Blue terminal, waiting for my delayed flight to arrive and take me to Syracuse for my mid-semester check-in with my students. My Blackberry suddenly gets an incoming 29 messages all at once. And this is what each one says:

I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]
I LOVE YOU [Sally's Circle]

When I look closer, it appears someone has commented on several of my blog posts. The person's handle is I LOVE YOU and the comments are all in Chinese characters. So I'm pretty sure my blog just got spammed by some Asian hacker. But part of me hopes Sally finally learned how to text message. I love you too, Mom.

Ever get weird signs like this?

Sally's birthday rolls around again

2010-02-21T22:04:00.003-05:00

Hi everyone,

I hope the winter months have been treating you well. I feel bad that I've abandoned you by not posting in a while. I miss writing here, though, and I'm happy to be back.

So, Sally's birthday is tomorrow (2/22). Another birthday, another year past. I wrote about her birthday last year -- both the good and the bad -- and yet every year feels so different.

This is the eighth year my family will celebrate Sally's birthday without her. It reminds me of the old children's taunt about breaking a mirror and getting 7 years of bad luck. Now, in year #8, I think my family is done with our bad luck.

In the past year, all three Bardachs moved in with their significant others: I moved in with Mark, Dad sold our house and moved in with his girlfriend Susan, and my brother Jordan's girlfriend Robyn moved in with him. What this really means is that all three Bardachs have a lot of love and happiness in their lives. No room for bad luck!

On a personal note, in my own life decisions, I have come to be less frustrated by missing Sally's words of wisdom. I look at my peers and realize they are no longer living according to their parents' rules or guidance; they are living on their own terms and deciding things for themselves. I'm no longer the 20-year-old girl who lost her mom. Now I'm the 27-year-old woman who's living in the present. Basically, I can't be mad at Sally anymore -- I'm too old!

So, even though I do feel at a crossroads right now as I make decisions about my career and my future, Sally is no longer my roadblock. She is still there. Perhaps she was the sunshine on my face as I ran to the Brooklyn Promenade today, or the gentle caress that soothed Mark this weekend while he was sick, or maybe she's just hovering around in some intangible form, like the song lyrics that pop into my head when I'm sad, singing: "Baby mine, don't you cry. Baby mine, dry your eyes. Rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine." (Yes, it's the song Dumbo's mom sings to Dumbo -- watch the video below!)

Sending love and hugs and birthday wishes to you, Mom.

Grieving on Facebook: How the Site Helps People

2010-01-06T17:15:00.003-05:00

I just read this article on Time.com called Grieving on Facebook: How the Site Helps People). I was so happy to read that people were finding comfort from grief online.

Of course I can relate to this topic. The best part about Sally's Circle is when you reach out and share your stories with me. It's in that comment or email that I feel we are truly connecting on such an intimate and often lonesome topic.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if we were all put in one room together, say at a bar or a coffee shop, away from our computers and out in reality. I hate to have such little faith, but I think we wouldn't be as willing to share. We might feel shy, embarrassed, or exposed. The internet gives us a safe space to be anonymous, and anonymity grants us some freedom to express our grief.

I love the safe space we have found here, but sometimes I wonder if that limits us from connecting to people in real life. I can't help but wonder: are we all just big cowards?! (Myself included!)

What do you think about sharing grief online?

The resolution of vulnerability

2009-12-31T14:09:00.004-05:00

In searching for Regina Spektor's song, "Hero of the Story," from the 500 Days of Summer movie soundtrack, I came upon dozens of young women who have recorded their own covers of Regina Spektor songs and posted their videos on YouTube. You try: Compare Regina's original to the cover and tell me what you think:

The original:

The cover:

For me, the cover won hands down. There's something so vulnerable about the girl performing the cover. Maybe it's her pet parakeet shrieking in the background. Maybe it's her dorky red polo shirt. Maybe it's because she rarely looks up, but when she does, she looks right into your eyes. Maybe it's because she reminds you of all the drama girls you've ever known, the girl in your second grade class who already had perfect pitch.

The Internet has created an open mic night for anyone with a wish to be a performer. My whole life I wished I had a singer's voice. Instead I have a writer's hand. Luckily, both are ways of sharing and showing that vulnerable side.

Last night I had dinner with my cousins, Susi and Sylvie, who are also two of my closest friends. A couple of glasses of wine in, I found myself confessing secrets I'd been keeping to myself the past month. The result? I woke up this morning feeling not necessarily better, but certainly more honest with myself.

So for 2010, perhaps a good resolution is to allow ourselves to be vulnerable. I'll try harder to share my innermost thoughts with you here at Sally's Circle, and I'd love if you tried to share more with me, either in the comments or via email.

Wishing you hugs and happiness in the new year,

Marisa

When the road is paved with question marks

2009-12-16T21:02:00.004-05:00

Ever since I was a kid, I always wanted to see into the future.

In 2nd grade, Mrs. Rosen called me "Miss What If" because I asked a lot of questions to help me determine all the possible outcomes of a situation. Example: "What if we can't hand in our homework because tomorrow's a snow day?" Follow-up question: "What if the next day's also a snow day?" Sally did not like Mrs. Rosen's nickname for me. She thought it was an undeserved stigma. I always wondered if there was some truth to the name.

In 6th grade, I realized Mrs. Rosen didn't hold all the answers -- the fortune teller at the Gold Coast Flea Market did. For $5, the lady in the tapestry skirt told me I'd get married at 24 and have a baby at 26. At age 11, that sounded pretty accurate. Now, at age 27, unmarried and unchildrened, and with the Gold Coast Flea Market conveniently out of business, I'm pretty sure I can't get a refund.

As an adolescent, I thought obsessively about what I'd look like and what my life would be like at 17. I thought that was the perfect age. It turned out to be the age that Sally was diagnosed. After that, I stopped looking so far into the future. It seemed to be bad luck.

But here I am, at 27, and still I'd like to know what the future holds. Wouldn't we all, I suppose? When I gaze into my crystal ball, however, all I see are question marks. Will I get married? Will I have kids? Where will I live? Will I change careers? Question marks everywhere I look. And it bugs me.

I know deep down that that's what life is: a series of question marks that gradually get answered. Sally wrote it to me once in a letter when I was 13:

I wish I could impart to you some very important wisdom -- on how to live your life, on whom to love, on whom to choose as your friends, and on how not to get hurt. But, unfortunately and fortunately, there is no secret formula for success. You, alone, will have that adventure -- that wondrous adventure called life. And remember, life is always filled with unexpected surprises!

I read this letter whenever I feel a little lost, and even 13 years later, it still rings true.

How do you deal with all of life's question marks?

Sally and the very odd dream

2009-12-07T22:41:00.005-05:00

Sally visited me in my dream last night. But it was a very odd dream.

In the dream, I had to go to the hospital for a series of tests. The doctor started describing the tests to me. "In the first test," he said, "I'll inject dye into you and you'll have to tell me if you feel a painful sensation all through your body." Yikes. He injected me and sure enough, it hurt like a beast clawing my insides. Luckily, the pain didn't last very long. He got the result he needed and we moved on to the next test.

"In the second test," he continued, "I'll give you instructions and see if you can carry them out." Well, this test seemed far easier. "I'm going to give you this ketchup bottle and then" -- his voice cut out. His lips were still moving, but it was as if the audio had been cut. Instinct told me to scramble off the doctor's table and start running, but I didn't know what I was supposed to do. Scraggly, long-haired men jumped out at me, and I squirted them with ketchup, thinking maybe that's what I was supposed to do. I kept running and squirting until finally the nurses stopped me, brought me back to my original room, and tried to settle me down, but I was very upset.

That's when I noticed my mom and dad were huddled in the corner, whispering to each other and obviously very concerned about me.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" I said, shocked. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Missy," she said, sternly. "If something really serious is going on, I'm going to be there."

The dream ended abruptly. Half-asleep, I reflected back on the dream. Sally believed that when the dead appeared in your dreams, it meant they were coming to visit you. I believe that, too. So does Dad, who said he dreamed about Mom the last night he slept in the house before selling it.

The dream reminded me of a poem that Laura's mom gave me after my mom died. The poem is called "Footprints in the Sand" by Mary Stevenson, and it's often recited to people who are going through tough times. In the poem, the man sees two sets of footprints, his and the Lord's, but during tough times he only sees one set of prints. He asks the Lord, "Why, when I needed you most, you have not been there for me?" The Lord replies: "The times when you have seen only one set of footprints in the sand, is when I carried you."

Perhaps Sally, all 5-feet-1-inch and 104 pounds of her, is offering to carry me. Thanks, Mom.

Thanksgiving!

2009-11-30T11:43:00.013-05:00

I hope you all had a lovely (and filling) Thanksgiving!

Like last year, and every year since I was a little kid, I spent the holiday with my mom's side of the family in Connecticut. Aunt Sherry & Uncle Stuary host a wonderful dinner packed with about a dozen of our relatives and tons of yummy food. Even though my mom is no longer here, I'm proud to carry on the tradition and represent "the Bardach clan"! It's my favorite holiday of the year.

This year was particularly special because we celebrated my Great Aunt Ruthy's 90th birthday and my Uncle Stuart's 70th birthday. Everyone wrote beautiful, heartfelt notes to Aunt Ruthy, which she read aloud. Some even made her well up! Uncle Stuart loves celebrating his birthday, as you can tell from his new accessory in the photo below.

I also got to hang out with my little cousins, Jamie & Greg, two of my favorite people in the world. Right before we were about to sit down for the big turkey dinner, Greg decided it was time to pull out his front tooth. The tooth fairy was very generous to him on account of it being a holiday -- $6! All Jamie wants for Chanukah is a puppy, so everyone spent a lot of time debating the ups and downs of owning a pet.

Last but not least, I was also fortunate to have Mark by my side for the third year in a row. He's the only guy I know who can even make stabbing a forkful of turkey fun. He keeps me giggling, and it makes me miss Sally less, because I know she'd be happy that he's comfortable there and loves talking to her older brother (Uncle Stuart), younger brother (Uncle Howie), and all the rest of the family.

Especially in a year full of change (Dad selling the house and moving in with Susan, me moving in with Mark, Jordan's girlfriend Robyn moving in with him), it was nice to celebrate a holiday in a home I've known for as long as I can remember. I may have lost my childhood house this year, but over the holiday I realized Aunt Sherry's and Uncle Stuart's home is one of my childhood houses, too, and I'm lucky to still have not only their house but all my favorite traditions (including Aunt Sherry's famous Chocolate Chip Cake!).

How was your holiday?

Saying Goodbye to My Childhood House

2009-10-12T02:00:00.006-04:00

19 days remain until my dad sells the house. It didn't hit me 'til last night, when I woke up at 2 AM and couldn't fall back to sleep. I tossed and turned for an hour. And I thought a lot about the house I grew up in (that's it in the photo, isn't it pretty?).

Everyone keeps asking how I feel about the house selling. The thing is, I said goodbye to that house 7 years ago when my mom died. I knew then and there that the house would never be the same. Her too-loud laugh and warm hugs had filled the space for 20+ years. Without it, the house felt as hollow as the pumpkins we gutted and carved last night.

My cousin Susi says she wants to see the house before it goes. I keep thinking she's going to be disappointed. She wants what I want: my mom asking us girls to set the table with her pretty butterfly dishes and all of us gathering round the table to eat baked ziti and laugh at Sally's ridiculous stories, like when she accidentally walked into the men's room at the gym, plus an inappropriate remark about how God really knew what he was doing when he made the woman's body (and not so much when he made the man's). If Susi goes there, she'll see what I see: a ghost of a house, the ghost of Sally.

The truth is, the house being gone is a bit of a relief. These days I prefer going to Susan's house. It has the warmth that my house lacks. And with my dad living there too, it will feel even more homey.

My sadness about the house is also uplifted by the people buying the house. Just like my parents, it's a young couple who are both teachers. And just as my parents moved in with infant Jordan, they're moving in with a newborn son. To top it off, the woman's name is Laura, the same name as my best friend. When my dad told me about them, I immediately knew and told him, "It's meant to be. Mom wanted you to sell the house."

Have you had to part with your childhood home? How did you get through it? What did you save, what did you throw away?

Fear of losing the happies

2009-10-10T09:46:00.002-04:00

I woke up at 6 AM today -- on a Saturday, mind you -- sweating from a bad dream.

It was the kind of dream that's so bad you don't want to say it out loud, for fear you may completely jinx the person in the dream or yourself. But I think sometimes if you say it out loud, you get rid of it, so here goes: In my dream, my Uncle Bobby died.

I guess you first have to understand Uncle Bobby. He's a one-of-a-kind. He's the single, hip, lives-in-NYC uncle who's always telling you about the latest jazz club or Vietnamese sandwich shop he discovered. Best part is he'll describe it with the enthusiasm of a tourist even though he's lived in the big apple for 50+ years. And he's always eager to spend time with his 5 girl nieces, all of us in our 20s who completely adore him.

Uncle Bobby's been on my mind since Yom Kippur, when we went to temple services together (our annual tradition since I moved to the city 4 years ago). Between services, he told me all about his new job. In a mid-life career switch, he just graduated with a masters in teaching and landed his first job at a terrific school in Brooklyn. After hopping from radio voice-overs to NYC tour guide, teaching just seems to suit Bobby. He's smiling bigger than I've ever seen him.

In my dream, I kept thinking how unfair it was: He had just found his happiness and now it was taken away.

I suppose you're thinking what I'm thinking: the dream isn't about Uncle Bobby. It's about Sally and it's about me.

Sally, when she got sick at 57, had been in the prime of her happiness. She had married late for the '70s (she was 34), had children later (she had me at 39), and was finally enjoying her husband and children and planning for retirement. Cancer came in and took all her happiness away, just like that. It took some of my happiness away, too.

Like Sally's happiness at 57, I feel I am reaching my happiness now at 27. Living with Mark is the start of our home and life together. After so many nerves of whether or not to move in together, living together fits us so well. But sometimes, when I overhear girls on the subway telling their girlfriend to dump his sorry ass, or when my own girlfriends get their hearts broken, I tell myself sternly, "Marisa, this could all go away tomorrow," and then I look for holes and gaps where my happiness could slip through the cracks and be gone.

Happiness has always been top priority for me. Mom used to like retelling the story of me at age 2, sitting on the potty. She and dad had just had a fight. "Mommy," I asked, looking up at her. "Are you happy with Daddy?" Imagine Sally's shock. "Why, yes, sweetheart," she said, "Don't you want to get married one day?" I guess I pondered this, still tinkling, while I came to my decision: "I just want to be happy."

The funny thing about happiness is that as soon as you become fearful of losing that happiness, you stop feeling happy. Why shouldn't Uncle Bobby just enjoy his new teaching venture? Why shouldn't I just enjoy my new life with Mark? What goodness comes of fear? It may first seem like a humble quality, but really it just breeds negativity.

Off to re-start my Saturday with happiness. Step 1: Breakfast. Step 2: Haircut. Step 3: Dinner and a birthday party with close friends.

I wish you all a happy day.

Breast Cancer Awareness Month: Kind of nice or a load of crap?

2009-10-04T22:57:00.006-04:00

Hi there,

So, it's October, which means it's Breast Cancer Awareness Month. The topic came up over the weekend while I was at an annual ladies' getaway to the Jersey Shore with Laura, Mrs. G (Laura's mom), and Mrs. Byrne (Laura's mom's close friend). We discussed whether we were on board with the cancer awareness months. Here's what we decided:

Breast Cancer Awareness Month is clearly the most popular and gets the most media attention of any of the cancer months. We need to pay more attention to other cancers, especially pancreatic cancer (which has such a high death rate) and lung cancer (which often has little sympathy because it's associated with smokers).
We're a little tired of all the Breast Cancer Awareness products. Stores are stocked with ridiculous items like a pink nail polish with a pink ribbon on it. Sure, some proceeds go to breast cancer, but it's often as little as 3 - 10 %. Why can't companies donate money to cancer charities in a subtle way? The products seem so showy -- for the companies and the consumers.
Why should just one month be associated with a specific cancer? Why shouldn't we be charitable and aware every month?

I couldn't help but relate to these arguments. While I feel grateful to the pancreatic cancer foundations like Lustgarten and PanCAN, I don't feel at ease participating in the events like charity walks or fundraisers. Each year I debate doing the walk, especially because my mom, dad, and brother did the walk when my mom was sick. But it just feels forced. I can't tell if I'm being a chicken, or if I just feel funny buying into it.

On the other hand, I admire people who embrace the charitable activities, in particular my cousin Deena who will walk for 3 days straight to raise money for breast cancer, since her mom is a survivor. I wish I had her courage.

What do you think about Breast Cancer Awareness Month, or cancer awareness months in general? Kind of nice or a load of BS?

Patrick Swayze Dies of Pancreatic Cancer

2009-09-14T21:33:00.004-04:00

Hi friends,

I'm so sad to report that Patrick Swayze died today of pancreatic cancer.

I just found out the news, too. When I logged on to Facebook, the first thing I noticed was a friend's wall post: poor Swayz. Out loud I said, "Oh no." A few other Facebook comments confirmed. Another "Oh no" from me. And then a google of "Patrick Swayze" triple-confirmed. I kept wishing the news was wrong.

It's so strange. Pancreatic cancer has such a hard-hit reality, as close to a death sentence as any cancer. Yet when it strikes someone you love or admire, someone who has so much passion and feist, it's so easy to believe they can beat it. So naive to think they could be the 1 in a million who survive. Sometimes I think if I just accepted the reality, it would hurt less. But I also believe it's our faith in our loved ones that gives them the ability to beat the odds. Sally and Patrick both lived way longer than most pancreatic cancer patients, who often pass within 6 months. I think that says a lot about their gusto. (See a clip of Patrick Swayze in his Barbara Walters exclusive interview in January.)

Poor Patrick. And his poor wife. I'm keeping them in my heart tonight.

Love,
Marisa

P.S. Sally, if you're out there reading, this could be your big chance to go Dirty Dancing with Patrick. Keep your eyes peeled for him. Laura will be very jealous!

Happy Aniversary, Mom and Dad

2009-08-28T19:43:00.002-04:00

Today would have been my parents' 32nd wedding anniversary. Sally passed just a week before their 25th. Today I'm smiling thinking of what a terrific couple they were! Love ya, Dad.

Is it true summer's ending?

2009-08-27T00:47:00.003-04:00

I know *technically* summer doesn't end until late September. But already a window breeze has replaced the air conditioner and brown leaves crunch under my flip-flops and in my heart I know that fall's around the corner.

I'm always sad to say goodbye to summer. It seems strange to say that, since I told you recently that August makes me sad. But the truth is, I'm a summer baby. Born on the 14th of July, I can't help but love the hot hot heat blasting down on my pale skin. New York City feels alive in the summer, too. Friends have dinner on sidewalk cafes or share beers in backyard gardens or gather for picnics in Central Park. There's a buzz that doesn't exist any other time of year.

Fall 2009 is going to be a big and busy time. I'm going to be a professor. Mark's working hard on freelance design projects. Suddenly it feels like our summer move-in was so long ago, and our work-work-work routine has taken over.

How do people balance it all, all the time? Was it any easier in the olden days?

I think of my parents in their younger days, two teachers in Queens who had the summers off. They, too, used to feel this way in late August: the half dread/half excitement of a new school year starting. Now I'm a teacher like them, diving into a career I always thought I'd love.

Less dread, more excitement. I think that's the lesson learned at 1AM tonight. Now, time for bed!

All I can do is keep breathing

2009-08-20T17:32:00.003-04:00

I hope you don't think I'm copping out by posting so many songs this week. It's just that during stressful times, music is the only thing that calms me. Ingrid Michaelson's "Keep Breathing" was introduced to most on the Grey's Anatomy soundtrack. Listening to it calms me as much as yoga. I hope it relaxes you, too.

7 Years Later: How to let go of negative thoughts

2009-08-19T07:24:00.009-04:00

Hi friends,

Well, today is the day. The "deathiversary," as I've coined it, even though I'm still trying to think of a more positive word. August 19, 2009: 7 years since Sally passed away.

When I woke up this morning that was my first thought: 7 years. And then I thought of the curse we taunt as children: Break a mirror, 7 years of bad luck. I endured my 7 years, not necessarily of bad luck, but of longing and missing and wishing for impossibilities -- similar to the characters in The Lovely Bones. Now, today, 7 years later, I want to be rid of it. I don't know if you can get rid of grief entirely, but I'd at least like to exchange the bad luck grief for the good luck grief.

So I'm doing things differently today. For the first time in 7 years, I'm going to work instead of taking the day off. I know some of you had different ideas of what I should do today, but this seemed like the right idea. I'm not giving up the tradition of going to the cemetery with my family entirely. We just plan to go on Sunday instead.

I also tried to treat the month of August differently this year. In the past, I've let the whole month be sabotaged by this date. I've relived every second of her last summer. I've despised August. On August 1st of this year, I woke up in Chicago feeling full of dread. I went for a run and decided mid-run that I was in control of August. I could choose to have a good month and focus on the positive. And most days this month, I didn't even have to remind myself to be happy. It just happened because I had established a new mindset.

Focusing on the positive can be difficult. A few weeks ago, I saw the first cockroach in my new apartment, and after that I put on my "Bardach Surveillance Camera" and scanned the apartment for more. Soon I realized I was dreading coming home, even though I had been so happy here with Mark until then. So lately, every time I think of the cockroach, I immediately think of something positive to counter it, like how much I love all our plants that hang in our sun-filled windows. Similarly, today I don't want to think about all the negative. I just want to remember Sally as someone I really loved talking to, the best conversationalist you could get on the phone, the wisest words echoing out of this little 5-foot woman.

Mom, today I let go of the negativity. I let go, I let go, I let go.

What do you do on the "deathiversary" of someone you loved? And can you PLEASE help me think of a better name!

Love,
Marisa

If you just smile...

2009-08-17T08:57:00.003-04:00

When I miss my mom, I sing this song to myself. I first heard it in My Girl 2. It's from the scene where Vada finds home videos of her mom, who died giving birth to her. Scroll to 1:40 to hear her sing the song...

Did Sally tell me to read The Lovely Bones?

2009-08-14T12:47:00.007-04:00

As I walked to work yesterday morning, anxious to get some last-chance August sun on my skin, I couldn't shake away a thought: Sally wanted me to read The Lovely Bones.

I picked the book off my shelf a week ago. It had been on the Banned Book List, a group of books my college roommates told me not to read after my mom died. It made sense at the time, since it's about a girl who is murdered and watches her family from heaven. But now, 7 years later, I felt ready for it. Since starting, I haven't been able to put it down. On subway rides I am unaware of anything around me, completely engrossed in the pages. In sleep, a murderer haunts my dreams and I try to fight him off with punches and persuasion.

For the past 2 weeks, I've tried to ignore August. I've tried to focus on what's good: my new apartment with Mark, the warm weather that finally arrived after a rainy June and July, the prospect of being a professor in the fall. I've tried to say it's just another month, even though it's the month my mother died. But The Lovely Bones will not let August rest.

In the book, Susie (the girl who was murdered) goes to some kind of afterlife and soon discovers that unless she stops watching her family on Earth, they will continue to be obsessed with her death and finding her murderer. Likewise, she will never reach heaven.

Especially since it's August, and 7 years since my mom died, it makes me wonder about where my family is and where my mom is. Is writing this blog keeping her from reaching heaven? Do I need to cut the strings and let her go, let me go?

Maybe Sally nudged me to pick the book off the shelf. Nothing in August is ever pure coincidence. And even though it's 7 years later, maybe I'm still not equipped to read books like this.

The 19th of August, the anniversary of when she died, is approaching fast. I could use your advice.

I'm off to Chicago!

2009-07-30T15:59:00.004-04:00

I'm off to Chicago for a long weekend away with my dear friends Jes and Gennaro. Jes is from outside of Chicago, so I'll be getting a first-rate tour from a native -- Yankees/White Sox game included! (Although she would argue it's a White Sox/Yankees game.)

I'll report back when I return. Have a terrific weekend.

Love,

Marisa

P.S. Thanks for all the thoughtful responses about my Aug 19 decision. I spoke to my dad and we both agreed to think about what we want to do. I'm thinking maybe cemetery in the morning and a funny movie in the afternoon! Bruno, anyone?!

Should I take the day off on August 19?

2009-07-28T22:13:00.004-04:00

Hi there,

Sometimes I write to tell you things, but other times, like tonight, I need your advice.

August 19 is the date my mom passed away. (Is there actually a term for this "holiday"? The only one that seems right is deathiversary, but that's pretty dark, even for me!) Anyway, for the past 7 years, I've always taken that day off from work. At first it was out of fear of breaking down at work, but later it became out of respect for my mom, my family, and myself.

Now, as August approaches, I've already begun anticipating the date. But today I thought, "It's been 7 years, do I really still need to take the day off?"

I'm torn. Part of me likes my family's tradition: My dad, brother, and I go to the cemetery and out to lunch (similar to what we did on my mom's birthday). I also don't subscribe to the idea that grief has a time limit. Although lately I've been curious about what joy I could find if grief did have a time limit, which I guess is the reason behind wanting to treat this August 19 -- 7 years later -- a little differently.

What do you think?

Birthday date night recap

2009-07-26T20:09:00.004-04:00

Hi everyone,

I hope you're having a nice weekend. Right now it feels like hurricane weather in Brooklyn... lots of wind and rain. It makes me want to curl up in bed, but I'll write to you first.

So, the birthday date night was a lot of fun. Let me tell you all about it!

Mark texted me to meet him at Brooklyn Heights Wine Bar, where the night started with exotic cocktails (he tried a Whiskey Fig Fizz; I tried a Cherry Caipirinha) and yummy appetizers. We chattered about interesting articles we each had read in Wired magazine, reminisced about our second date aboard the "classy" Staten Island Ferry, and chirped on and on about lots of other topics.

Energy charged across our little table, as if it were indeed a date back from our early days. Even our waitress felt it, so she granted Mark's request to let us watch the bartender as she made his fancy cocktail. While at the bar, we befriended some of the bar dwellers and soon several eyes were on the bartender as she prepared his beverage (which included fig preserves and an egg white). That's one of the things I love about Mark: he makes friends wherever he goes. Sally had that quality, too. (Random women in the grocery store used to spill their problems to her!).

Dinner followed at a fancy restaurant nearby called Le Petit Marche. We sat at a great table right up front looking outside onto the sidewalk. I found out later that Mark had asked them to save that table for us. So romantic!

At dinner we talked about the balance between our little "family" (the two of us living together) and our immediate families who raised us. Between Mark and I moving in together, my dad selling my childhood house, and me turning another year older, I feel a sudden lurch into womanhood that sometimes feels exciting and sometimes feels rattling.

As a little girl, my mother often scolded me on birthdays. She'd climb into my bed the night before, put her arms around me, and say, "Didn't I tell you not to get a year older?" Since I was the youngest, she wanted me to stay her baby. This often made me feel guilty so I'd roll my eyes and say, "Mom, I have to get older!" Now, years later, I feel the same way: like there's nothing I can do to stop time, and even if I could, I wouldn't want to -- I have to get older.

Have you ever had this feeling: the recognition that right now, right in this very moment, you're growing up fast?

Belated birthday dinner

2009-07-22T17:52:00.003-04:00

Mark's taking me out for a belated birthday dinner tonight. I'm excited! Since moving in together, date nights have become a little few & far between. I don't know where we're going, just the cross streets. I love the surprise factor. It brings me back to our early dating days where we would each try to out-do each other on date ideas.

I'll let ya know where we end up and how it is!

My mother's plates

2009-07-19T23:42:00.005-04:00

You eat your food on them. You put them in the dishwasher. You place them in your cabinet. Plates don't get a whole lot of credit, but these plates here are very special to me. They belonged to my parents -- a wedding gift from my dad's parents -- and now they belong to me.

As a kid, these were not our everyday plates; these were the plates we used for company. This means that when I look at these plates I see a full table with extra chairs, hear my mom's too-loud laugh, and taste my dad's famous baked ziti. My mom always had a thing for butterflies, and once imagined herself as a butterfly in a poem she wrote, so the beautiful blue butterflies on the plate make me feel like she's with me in my new home.

Since my dad is selling our house, the house of my childhood, he gave me this set of dishware as part of Operation: Bardach Clean-Up. I was happy he wanted to give them to me, and I'm happy to have something I use every day that reminds me of my mom.

Do you have a favorite item from your parents?

A very happy birthday celebration

2009-07-15T08:35:00.004-04:00

Hi everyone!

Yesterday was my birthday. What a happy day!

I spent my work day doing a video shoot for Prevention.com. It's a new cooking series that stars Prevention magazine's editor-in-chief. I write the scripts, buy and prep all the food, and direct the shoot. It's exhausting and exhilarating. My favorite moment was when our editor-in-chief shook a margarita on-camera... and forgot to hold the top of the cocktail shaker. Let's just say Tequila was in the air! (Click here to see a clip of me starring in a video about avocados.)

Work was also accompanied by a party my coworkers threw me, Dunkin' Donuts and beautiful sunflowers included. So sweet!

After work, I headed out with Mark and a handful of friends to see the Brooklyn Cyclones, a minor league baseball team that plays out in Coney Island. From the stadium, you can see the beach, The Cyclone, and the Wonder Wheel (Coney Island's main attractions). I don't think I watched even one full inning of the game. I was too busy chatting with friends, dancing to the pop music being blasted, and finding some reason to laugh.

I really felt so happy yesterday. Things just seem in place and as they should be. Sometimes this makes me nervous, like if I make any sudden movements everything could change. But then I try to tell myself that life has to keep moving and changing, and all I have to do is enjoy the ride. (After all, I'm only 27!).

Do you think happiness is just a frame of mind and we could find it anytime we want, or is happiness based on outside circumstances going on?

This just in: Kim Jong Il has pancreatic cancer

2009-07-13T11:45:00.002-04:00

According to CNN.com, South Korean leader Kim Jong Il has pancreatic cancer. He's 67.

It feels like so many celebs and public figures are coming down with pancreatic cancer: Patrick Swayze. Steve Jobs. Ruth Ginsberg. And now Kim Jong Il. Do you think pancreatic cancer is more prevalent, or do you think there's just more awareness around it?

No I haven't forgotten about you

2009-07-12T22:30:00.003-04:00

Hi friends,

It's been a bit of a hiatus since I last wrote, huh? This past weekend my girlfriends asked, "So... where have the blogs been?" I shrugged: "It's summer...?" Excuse = lame!

Summer so far has been very Dickens: the best of times, the worst of times. For me, it's honestly been the best of times. I love my new apartment and I really love living with Mark. His friends recently asked how I liked my new "roommate." I said that mostly it's been very normal and nice, kinda quiet and peaceful. For example, right now he's in the office designing a resume for our resume company and I'm lying in bed blogging. We have our alone time but it's wonderful knowing he's a wall away. His friends, joking around, said, "So what I'm hearing is that it's not extraordinary!" But nope, it's that, too.

So while I'm in the best of times, over in newly-moved-in honeymoon-ville, my friends are having a rough go of it. Boyfriends are breaking their hearts, family stress is dragging them down, job loss (or fear of it) is prevalent.

Being happy while your friends are sad just seems unfair. I often wish I could spread the wealth, like blowing one of those poofy weeds where all the seeds scatter. Sometimes I think I'm allowed to be happy now because of all the sadness I experienced when Sally died. Not in an "I deserve it" way. It's more a feeling like there are only so many sobs in the universe and I used up a lot of my quota then. I hope my friends are using up their quota now and will be happy soon, too.

Saying some prayer for my girls tonight.

xo,
Maris

Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, and Sally

2009-06-25T21:10:00.003-04:00

What a day, huh?

First, Farrah Fawcett died of cancer at age 62. Next, Michael Jackson died of cardiac arrest at age 50. One died expectedly (albeit before her time); one died suddenly. Both feel like major losses even though we never really knew these people. But regardless, it feels like a part of our lives and culture is now gone.

In some ways, their deaths remind me of Sally's, but in other ways it seems like a totally separate kind of death. Today I could call or text anyone and say, "Have you heard?" and everyone shared that grief. Bars blasted "Billie Jean" as I walked to the subway. Every news channel and website is investigating and reacting. In this way, death is a universal connector, and there's something very special and humane about that.

Are you bummed out about MJ and FF? How do you think celebrity death differs from personal grief? Share your thoughts here.

From a special guest blogger: "Father's Day Without Dad"

2009-06-20T14:18:00.008-04:00

Hi! In honor of Father's Day, I invited Cathy Bueti to guest blog. She carries the true spirit of Sally's Circle: she's a breast cancer survivor and recently lost her father to cancer, but her memoir, "Breastless in the City" (LOVE the title!), is all about how she found love, happiness, and hope throughout it all. Take it away, Cathy, and thanks for sharing such honest thoughts.

I have been avoiding the card aisle for weeks now. I don’t want to see commercials or fliers advertising Father’s Day sales. I think about how none of that matters. I still have moments when it doesn’t register in my head, or rather my heart, that I don’t have a dad anymore. This is my second Father’s Day without him. He passed away from pancreatic cancer on June 2, 2008. He suffered with it for a year. During that time I hardly saw him. We spoke on the phone and emailed. That was what our relationship had become over the years. Very distant and difficult.

I realized at the end that he did the best he could. Our relationship was strained to say the least. He was an abusive alcoholic when I was growing up. He was never a happy man even when he quit drinking. It was very difficult to get along with him. I learned to forgive although I wish it had happened sooner. The last time I saw him was on his 60th birthday only two months before he died. I hadn't seen him in a year since his diagnosis and subsequent surgery. I was grateful he invited me over to see him that day. That was something he never did. When I saw him things came out of his mouth that he never said before.

"Next time I will be a better dad." He said
"You did the best you could." I replied.
He said "No, I did what was best for me."

As the tears began to roll down my cheeks I thought about how I wished this conversation had come along years earlier. When he walked over to me I knew it would be goodbye. He put his arms around me and I cringed at how broken his thin body felt. I heard him whisper "I love my little girl." I cried as I thought about how this was something he never said and wished he didn't wait till it was too late. Although he didn't say it in his own way he showed me at the worst times of my life. He was with me when my husband died, he was with me when I was told I had cancer. Somehow when the chips were down in my life he pushed his way back in to be there for me. I didn't appreciate it at the time. The tough part though was how absent he was when I was experiencing the good things that life brought me.

I thought he could be OK even with a cancer diagnosis. I was OK, I survived. I wanted him to survive too. This loss is tough for me both as a daughter and as a cancer survivor. I feel guilty sometimes that I am still here.

Even though I think of him often on days such as this it always seems harder. So on this Father’s Day I will be thinking of him with the knowledge that his spirit lives on. Sometimes I feel him around me. Those moments bring me tears and at the same time also bring a smile.

Father's Day is coming... you doin OK?

2009-06-18T23:10:00.004-04:00

Hi there,

Just wanted to check in on those of you who might be nervous or sad about Father's Day approaching. I know Mother's Day is a hard one for me, so I wanted to pass along some tips that have helped me over the years:

Have a plan. Lying low may seem "respectful" to the parent you lost (after all, it seems wrong to celebrate), but 24 hours is a long time to be alone. Seeing family, calling a friend, or even just going for a walk can be a lifesaver. It reminds you that life goes on, and that even if today is hard, it will get better.
Wallow a bit. Even if you have a plan, you're bound to have some alone time. During that time, if you feel like crap, don't be afraid to just feel like crap. Watch a sad movie. Listen to depressing music. Get it all out 'til you get the urge to feel happy again... and then allow yourself to move on from the sadness.
Don't be afraid to cry. Sometimes crying on these big holidays feels like your whole self might just collapse. Well, consider me proof that you won't. I've cried on many Mother's Days, and I usually feel a lot better afterwards.
Appreciate the day. In normal everyday life, it's hard to find appropriate times to really experience your grief or miss the person you lost. Whether it's Father's Day, a birthday, or the anniversary of someone's death, those holidays are a special time for you to collect your thoughts and connect with the person you lost.
Talk. Family and friends are eager to listen to you and be there for you today. Take advantage of them and open up. If you're a more private person, you might write down what you're feeling or "talk" to the person you lost. On Mother's Day, I like to "talk" (in my head) to my mom and give her the update on my life.

You might find there's something you have to avoid this holiday, too. It's different for everyone, but for me, it's the greeting card aisle. Seeing all the Mother's Day cards makes me so sad that I can't send one to Sally. I avoid going to CVS for a few weeks!

I hope this helps. And on Sunday, you'll be on my mind.

xo,
Marisa

Connecticut, Scrabble, Friends, and other things Sally loved

2009-06-17T23:16:00.006-04:00

Sally loved lots of things, but here are a few she totally worshipped:

Connecticut -- she loved New Haven, her hometown.
The beach -- she was a Piesces, 'nuff said.
Scrabble -- she beat everyone in my family -- unless they were sick or upset, then sometimes she let us win.
Friends -- she valued her girlfriends and taught me to do the same.
Birthdays -- she always knew how to make it special.

Last weekend, I got to do all 5 things: I visited my friend Katie in Connecticut to surprise her for her birthday and we played Scrabble and took a trip to the beach. Pretty much the formula for happiness, according to Sally! Actually, I'd add one more to my formula: French toast at a diner.

I've always loved going to visit Katie. Now it's even more fun because she and her fiance Raf just bought a house together. Some girls feel shafted when their best girlfriends find a man, but seeing Katie and Raf is like getting double the fun. I love them as a couple, and I love both of them individually. Around them, I feel 100% myself -- which is why I can go visit them and be totally satisfied staying home on a Saturday night playing Scrabble, drinking wine, and ordering pizza at midnight!

Which friends do you feel 100% comfy around? Write their names below to give thanks!

Salmon Croquettes recipe -- take 2!

2009-06-16T00:22:00.007-04:00

Four years ago, when I moved into my first Brooklyn apartment, I didn't know many recipes. Stuck for an idea, I recalled a dish my mom often made: salmon croquettes.

I knew the ingredients, but I didn't have her recipe, and my dad couldn't remember the measurements. Figuring I'd wing it, I mixed together canned salmon, chopped onion, an egg, and some breadcrumbs. It seemed too dry, so I added another egg. Then it seemed too wet, so I added more breadcrumbs. I repeated this process until it was a giant mess. Unable to form patties that would stick together, I threw too-wet patties into the pan and it soon became a salmon croquette scramble. Two words describe it best: ugly and gross. After dumping the contents in the trash, I went to my room, shut the door, and bawled. A simple call to my mom would have recovered that recipe, but she and the recipe were gone.

Last week, four years later, I decided to press my luck and try again. Vital Choice, a company that sells wild salmon by mail order, had sent tons of canned salmon to my office, just begging to be made into crunchy, crispy croquettes. This time, I found a recipe that had the same ingredients as my mom's but with the perfect measurements, thanks to Ashwini's Food for Thought blog (see the recipe here).

As the beautifully-formed patties sizzled in the pan, my new kitchen smelled just like my kitchen growing up. Surprisingly, I didn't miss my mom and I didn't feel nostalgic for my past. I don't know if this make sense, but lately, especially with this new "domestication" of living with Mark, I feel like part of me is taking on her essence -- like all the parts I loved about her are here in the air and within me. Have you ever felt this way?

As we ate dinner, I told Mark about my cooking disaster years ago. Wise as always, he said, "I bet you were the only one who expected to get it right the first time."

xo,
Marisa

P.S. Some readers have told me they want more frequent blog posts. I've often felt like I want to give you quality over quantity, but maybe a couple one-liners or brief thoughts every now and then would be OK. What do you think?

Ladies Luncheon!

2009-06-07T19:16:00.005-04:00

Happy Sunday!

Today was a great day. Mark and I still don't have curtains, so the bright sun woke us up at 8:30 -- way earlier than I'm normally up on a lazy Sunday! We took advantage of the morning. While we drank coffee, we made our first grocery list (everything's a "first" these days, we're like a newborn couple), and soon after I was off to Trader Joe's (a terrific little specialty supermarket) to stock up on food for the week. Tonight's menu: salmon croquettes. Yum!

But supermarket shopping isn't what made today that great -- please, I haven't turned into one of those weird suburban Stepford Wives yet! -- my best friends Laura and Shari came to visit! Laura drove in from Long Island; Shari subwayed from Manhattan. Friends since age 13, we have to share all the "big moments" with each other, and "moving in with a boy" (as we call it) certainly qualifies. They oohed and ahhed over the apartment, and then we sat outdoors at a nearby pub to eat salads and drink mimosas. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday!

Old friends are funny. You love each other and run to share any moment together, whether it's booking a trip (we're planning to go to Costa Rica in February) or celebrating a new apartment. But we also bicker like sisters (like when we tried to peer pressure Shari to buy her Costa Rica plane ticket this week). It's a love-bicker relationship, but I love (and laugh at) every minute of it. And I loved every minute of having them here today.

Signing off for now. Salmon croquettes to be made!

xo,
Marisa

P.S. I hope you don't mind that I've been drifting off-topic a bit. I know this blog is about Sally and dealing with parent loss/sickness, but sometimes the best way to combat the hardships is to celebrate and really acknowledge the happy times.

New apartment photos!

2009-06-03T22:16:00.013-04:00

We moved!

2009-06-01T13:20:00.004-04:00

Hi everyone,

Just wanted to drop you a quick note to tell you that Mark and I are finally in our new place!

We moved yesterday, May 31, a date I hope we'll continue to celebrate in the future. So many couples seem to move in together in a very casual way these days, especially in NYC where rents are high so it turns into an economical decision. But to me and Mark, this move feels like an important step in our relationship. For the past few days -- whether I was taping shut a box or just gazing at the gorgeous greenery from our windows -- my eyes would fill with tears. I feel very happy and lucky and blessed.

Big thanks to everyone who was so helpful with the move. My best friend Laura came out to pack boxes with Mark and I on Friday night, and we all had a blast together. My dad and his girlfriend Susan wrapped everything in my kitchen -- and I have a lot of cooking supplies! A bunch of our friends schlepped to Brooklyn last night, which filled our new space with laughter and good times to come. And Mark's been Mr. Handy putting together all the furniture and suggesting great decorating ideas. Thank goodness I moved in with a designer!

More details and PHOTOS later in the week -- I promise.

xo,
Marisa

Marisa vs. the flu

2009-05-22T10:39:00.008-04:00

Hi and Happy Friday!

Unfortunately, for me, it's not such a happy Friday. The flu hit me hard. I've been out for the count since Wednesday with a fever, bad cough, and some hard-to-even-get-off-the-couch fatigue.

Wednesday night was actually the worst of it. The American Idol finale was on, and I was in and out of sleep on the couch. Somehow, I woke up at 10 PM, just in time to hear the winner announced: Kris Allen. I thought I might be warm just from anger over Adam Lambert losing -- but then I took my temperature.

It was 104.3!

I was home alone, so I called my dad, who yelled, "TAKE TWO TYLENOL RIGHT NOW!" and hung up. (He just lost a friend to the swine flu, so he was especially panicked). I did what he said and then spoke to Mark, who immediately jumped in a cab to come over. In the 20 minutes I waited for him, I talked to my dad, brother, and Mark. We all decided that once Mark got there, he and I should go to the hospital together.

But the Tylenol helped immediately, and within the hour my temperature went down to 103.3, and then 102.1. Should we really go to the hospital? we wondered. After all, we'd probably wait in a gross waiting room all night long. We decided not to go. Instead, we stayed up 'til about 2 AM watching TV so I could continue taking my temperature and take Tylenol once more before I went to sleep. We fielded like 80 phone calls, too -- all our family and friends were so nervous! At 2 AM, Mark tucked me into bed and went to sleep on the couch. He was so anxious he fell asleep watching The Weather Channel. Poor guy!

Yesterday, Mark stayed home from work to take care of me. I felt like was 7 again, when my mom would stay home to make me tea and toast. I spent most of the day sleeping, and then Mark took me to the doctor, who didn't seem that concerned and gave me an antibiotic "just in case." Sometimes I hate doctors!

Today I'm just taking it easy. "Dr. Mark" had to head back to work, and I'm home monitoring my temperature and watching Top Chef reruns. I do have more energy today -- not like I'm going to run a marathon, more like I might wash last night's dishes (Mark made us enchiladas!). At least I have a 3-day weekend to feel better. So much for using the long weekend to pack for the big move -- oh well!

Any tips on what helps cure the flu?

Moving in and moving on

2009-05-18T21:30:00.010-04:00

I have terrific news to share: Mark and I found an apartment! Now I can officially tell you that we're moving in together.

After 7 days of searching, the 7th apartment we saw was the one. Located on a tree-lined block in a beautiful Brooklyn neighborhood, this converted brownstone was a no-brainer to take. As I walked down the block to meet Mark and the broker last Thursday, I felt it in my gut: this is our block, this is our apartment. And as soon as we walked in, Mark's eyes lit up like a little kid. It took only a 2-minute private conversation to say YES YES YES!!!

This might sound funny, but I can't believe how happy I am. Deciding to move in together was a big deal to both of us, and for a while I felt incapable of making this decision without my mother's words of wisdom. However, once I gave Mark my "yes" to move in together in March, I've never looked back.
On our way to sign the lease on Saturday morning, I felt not even an inch of nervousness (and I always feel jitters for big decisions). After we signed, a perma-beam stayed plastered on my face for the rest of the day. I never thought I'd be "that girl" who had such a girly reaction, but I'm totally guilty of it!

As I learned on Mother's Day, part of moving in with Mark means moving on from my mom's death. Surprisingly, I didn't feel sad on Saturday that I couldn't share it with her. I called everyone on my list and squealed in their ears, and then I looked up at the ceiling and knew she knew and was happy for me. I just knew.

So now, I'm focused on the countdown. We move on June 1, which means we have 14 days 'til the big day. I'll keep you updated on our progress!

From a Special Guest Blogger: How to reach out to sick friends or family

2009-05-14T22:43:00.006-04:00

You meet lots of people in the "blogosphere"! Luckily, I've met a lovely woman, brave cancer survivor, and kind mom named Ashley. She's here to share her story and give some advice. Take it away, Ash!

What a privilege to be a guest blogger,
for one of the best blogs in town
or should I say web.

When I spoke with Marisa
about this project of sharing my story,
the key was to keep it short and sweet,
in hopes of bringing light for others
to gain good pointers in helping those
who are in the time of need, whether it be
death, illness or a general troubled time.

The year was 2000,
millennium bug year
as most of you remember.

A year my life was turned upside down.

Just when I, Ashley, thought life couldn't
get any worse, already at the age of 19
I became a mother, then a wife.

A year later at the age of 20
my father passed away,
due to liver failure,
the following day my grandmother died,
from pancreatic cancer..

The month was March,
at the age of 23,
I had just taking on a new job,
during my last two weeks
of my old job, I was diagnosed with
FHC, Fibrolamellar Hepatocellular Carcinoma,
a liver malignancy in young adults,
LIVER CANCER.

I saw first hand, with a great team of doctors,
family and friends, how one
should be treated in a time of need.

1. Sit with the patient, even if it's in silence,
the day of surgery, home or even go to the doctor.

2. House hold duties, cook, laundry, yard, groceries etc..,
make sure you ask first.

3. Send cards, flowers, a phone call, gift basket,
a book, funny movie or a gift card,
for a salon, house cleaning or a meal.

Honestly guys anything is better than nothing,
I learned this first hand as well.
One of my best friends
was absent during my battle
with cancer!

I am now a 32 year old
cancer survivor,
on a mission to share my story.

As you can tell my story
is deep, so deep I can not
share it all here.

Instead I am writing a book!

Vist me at my blog, Blog a Verse, to learn more...

Mother's Day Recap: Finally finding peace

2009-05-13T21:40:00.010-04:00

I feel so weird saying this... like I might jinx myself... so I'm just going to whisper it in your ear: Mother's Day was surprisingly OK this year!

Sunday, that is.

Saturday was a little rough. I knew Mother's Day was coming, and I was dreading it. All day my stomach was upset and I felt on the verge of tears. After a few hours of lying on my couch, I finally forced myself to go to my friend Maria's housewarming party. Instinct told me that being around my friends would be an instant cure. It was. As soon as I arrived, a good giggle and a glass of sangria did the trick. The sad spell was broken.

Sunday started much better. I woke up happy and energized. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and I was ready for the day. This was a surprise -- especially since sometimes on Mother's Day, I literally don't want to get out of bed.

Mark and I were in the bagel line by 10:30AM (just in time to beat out the Brooklyn hipsters who sleep in!). As we walked to the subway, I told him that the weather being sunny always makes me happier on days like this. "The day my mom died and the next day at her funeral were both really sunny, beautiful days," I told him. "It makes me feel like the heavens are at peace."

We spent the next few hours on the apartment hunt. We're moving in together (yay!), and this was day 2 of the search. Between apartments, we visited our friend Melissa who's a first-time mommy celebrating Mother's Day. It felt so nice to celebrate a young mother. It reminded that the holiday is happy, too.

At 3PM, my brother picked us up and we drove to Long Island to spend the afternoon at my dad's girlfriend Susan's house. This time, I didn't care about wearing a dress or impressing everyone. I wore jeans and acted like myself -- and I had a great time. Susan and I had some really nice chats, I enjoyed talking to her two children who are in their 30s, and I even got a hug from her 1-year-old cutie-pie grandson, Cooper -- I'm smitten!

When I finally crashed into bed, I was totally wiped but content. It had been a good day, mostly because I finally understood that my life had to go this way. My mom had to pass. This is part of my story. And it shapes the path my life takes -- and I like my life! I used to long for a life with my mom in it again. But now, I long for the life I have, with all the people I might not have met and grown to love like Susan and Mark. I'm thankful, and I'm at peace.

What surprises you about your own story or life path? What turns has it taken that you didn't expect, but now you accept?

Mother's Day: How I try to stay OK

2009-05-08T00:04:00.000-04:00

Hi friends,

Well, Sunday is Mother's Day. It comes every year, as relentless as the seasons changing, and I tend to approach it half-filled with dread that I'll feel depressed and half-filled with hope that I'll be OK.

I wish I could tell you that I do something wonderfully charitable on Mother's Day -- that I volunteer at a soup kitchen or plant a tree. The truth is, those things seem a little too forced or cheesy. On any hard day that has to do with Sally, I really just want to be near my dad and brother (and recently, Mark), who understand me and fill me with great comfort.

Oddly enough, on the first Mother's Day after my mom died, I didn't spend the day with my family. Instead, I hid. I went on tour with my band and kept all my tears tucked away as my bandmates called their moms that Sunday. I hadn't yet dealt with my mom's death, and I couldn't bear to face my family -- but I did "man up" enough to call my dad and brother and share some mumbled words of how crappy we felt.

For the next few years, we spent the day with my aunt, uncle, and cousins in Brooklyn. Surprisingly, it always felt good to wish my Aunt Christine a happy mother's day, since she often feels like a mom to me. On that day, she would always say something to me and my cousins about missing my mom, and all our eyes would well up in that way that feels good and bad at the same time.

This year, and for the past two years, I now spend Mother's Day with my dad's girlfriend, Susan. She invites over our family and her family, and we barbecue burgers and hang out as one big strange Brady Bunch sort of crew. I have to admit: I really like this tradition. I like that she opens her arms to us on a tough day, and I'm thankful there's a plan so I don't have to think abuot what to do or sit around all day feeling sorry for myself. Plus, it means I still get to see my dad and brother and share the day with them, which is what I care about most.

Last year on Mother's Day, I was feeling blue and Mark said something that really changed my attitude. He said: "Ya know, one day Mother's Day might actually be a happy day for you."

What do you do on Mother's Day, or on other challenging days? I know Father's Day is a hard one for some of you readers, too. Please share your thoughts with me here.

My Dad: The father of rock 'n' roll

2009-05-04T23:14:00.005-04:00

For the past 6 years, ever since I visited the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame in 2003, I swore I'd return with the absolute best tour guide: my dad.

This past weekend, I finally made that promise come true. Off to Cleveland we went!

The Hall of Fame was incredible. For 7 hours we wandered through exhibits, marveled at Mick Jagger's super-skinny jumpsuit and Diana Ross's sequined dress, listened to songs together on oversized headphones, and watched videos of exclusive interviews and performances. The main exhibit was on Bruce Springsteen, an artist I never particularly loved and am now totally obsessed with. (My dad actually scored a last-minute ticket to see Bruce tonight -- on the phone just now he said it was "the perfect end to a perfect weekend").

Music has always been a wonderful bond between my dad and I. Whether singing along to Erasure as he drove me to a playdate as a kid, or blasting Blink-182 as we drove home from visiting my mom in the hospital (Dad loves the entire "Enema of the State" album!), music has always been our secret language.

But music isn't our only language. Throughout the weekend, we talked about lots of other stuff: life, work, relationships. All the things you want to talk about with your dad... to get his advice, to learn from his wisdom, to prove to him that you're growing up and making good decisions (even when you're pretty sure he already knows that).

So, tonight's a tribute to "the father of rock 'n' roll" -- my pops! He just called me back to tell me they're playing all Bruce Springsteen on 104.3 FM. So as he drives home from the concert and plays Bruce on the radio, I'm getting ready for bed and letting Bruce croon me to sleep. Miles apart, music is our great connector.

Have you ever been on a trip with your parent(s) that meant a lot to you? Share it here!

My blog post is on Glamour.com!

2009-05-03T17:23:00.002-04:00

Hi everyone!

I wrote another "guest blog" for Glamour magazine's "Life with Cancer" blog. Click here to check it out!

I'll tell you all about my awesome trip to Cleveland later tonight.

xo,
Marisa

I'm taking a daddy-daughter trip

2009-05-01T09:32:00.003-04:00

This weekend I'm taking my pops to the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, Ohio. My dad's the ultimate rock fan. He loves Neil Young, The Who, Tom Petty, and lots of other legendary musicians. Although he never really played an instrument (minus the clarinet in elementary school for about 5 minutes), his love for music certainly inspired my brother and I to become musicians.

Growing up, our house or car was often filled with music. My dad says when I was 4 I used to bop around to Springstein's "Born in the USA." The first song my brother and I loved as teenagers was "Video Kill the Radio Star," and my dad used to sing along to the chorus in the car. My whole fam has gone to countless concerts: Billy Joel, Elton John, Tina Turner. Dad even once stayed up 'til 2AM to see my band play a show in Syracuse, NY. What a trooper!

I went to the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame five years ago, when my college band Janet Drive was on tour. I loved every second of it, and knew I had to go back with my dad one day. I can't wait to experience the museum with him, since he'll have so much information to offer and experiences to talk about.

I'll report back on Sunday!

Who wants to guest blog?

2009-04-26T14:11:00.004-04:00

Happy Sunday, friends! Are you loving the early-summer weather we've been having? I am!

As much as I love sharing my stories with you, I hope this blog might be an opportunity for you to share your stories, too. Everyone experiences grief and loss in different ways, so the more voices we can get out there, the more we can relate to new ideas and opinions.

If you're interested in writing a "guest blog" for Sally's Circle, drop me an email. Whether you're dealing with someone close being sick, mourning the death of someone who has passed (even if it was years ago), or wondering how to reach out to a friend or acquaintance who lost someone, I'm interested in hearing from all kinds of viewpoints. I respect that not everyone is comfortable sharing in a public setting, so you always have the option to post anonymously. I won't give you away ; )

Hope to hear from you soon!

xo,
Marisa

Is there such a thing as "almost grief"?

2009-04-22T23:05:00.004-04:00

Hi friends,

I just Googled "Patrick Swayze" to check in on him. He's been on my mind ever since I found out he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, the same deadly disease that Sally had. I never had much of a tie to Patrick as an actor, but now that he's a fellow PC fighter, I feel a strong kinship with him. I know Sally would, too. I was especially intrigued by his interview with Barbara Walters (see a video clip from the interview here).

In Google, the most recent article that appears is an interview with Whoopie Goldberg, one of his Ghost co-stars. "He's going to go, but we don't know when," is the title. What a telling title for terminal disease. It's the dark cloud hanging over your head. It's the unpredictable time you may have left. It's the waiting.

Some grief specialists and psychologists have a name for it: anticipatory grief. It's a debatable term. Some think that loved ones can feel a type of grief before someone passes away. Others feel that grief begins only when a loved one's life ends.

I feel mixed about this. The 2 1/2 years that Sally was sick were life-changing for me. I know in my gut that something extraordinary happened in that time, whether we call it anticipatory grief, "almost grief" (that's the term I like), or some other name.

Do you think grief can happen before someone dies, or do you think the real grief only begins afterward? I'm curious to hear your thoughts.

Happy last day of Passover!

2009-04-15T22:34:00.010-04:00

Well, Passover is almost over (it ends Thursday at sundown). Most people celebrate by chowing down on bread, pasta, and other grainy goodness. While I have to admit I'm excited to bite into a chewy whole-wheat bagel, I am a little sad to wave goodbye to my favorite Jewish holiday and one of my favorite Passover recipes: Matzah Pizza.

It's so easy to make! Just put a square of matzah on a cookie sheet, drizzle on a little extra virgin olive oil, coat with a thick layer of tomato sauce, decorate with thin slices of fresh mozarella cheese, and add any toppings you wish. Mark and I loaded it up with slices of sweet Italian sausage. I know it's completely anti-Kosher (you're not supposed to combine cheese and meat), but it's so delish!

And in case you were curious, here are some food pics from my Passover seder:

Passover Seder: 9 Things That Made Me Smile

2009-04-11T12:28:00.006-04:00

Happy Saturday! It's truly an April day. Rain pitter-patters on the cement, coffee nestles in my belly, and my couch welcomes my tired body. After all, making a Passover seder for 22 people took quite a bit out of me this week! But it was well worth it. On my fourth annual seder -- and by far my favorite -- here are 9 things that made me smile:

Cooking. In the past year, I've really learned to love cooking. I took the day off from work on Wednesday to prepare, and I loved every second of it. Music and flavors swirled around my kitchen while I tasted each recipe: Cranberry Brisket, Apricot Chicken, Pineapple Kugel, Blood Orange Salad, Roasted Asparagus, Raisin-Nut Quinoa, Matzah Ball Soup. Maybe homemakers really do have it made?!

Flowers. My boyfriend Mark and best friend Laura both brought gorgeous bouquets of lilacs, sunflowers, and carnations. Passover is a "harvest holidays" in which we thank the land for being plentiful and enjoy seasonal spring foods, so flowers represent that.

Brisket. My dad searched every supermarket in Long Island to find the perfect brisket of beef for me. Even though we celebrated at separate seders, his gift made him present at my table.

Forgetfulness. As my non-Jewish friends read aloud the story of Passover, they looked at me accusingly when they got to portions I'd forgotten to do. In response, I scurried around my kitchen to enact what they read, including dipping parsley into salt water (and taking a bite - yuck!), displaying the seder plate (which was missing half the ingredients), and pouring a glass of wine for Elijah.

Jordan. My brother's always the last to show up, but the one who brings the biggest smile to my face. I was so happy to have him meet my friends and experience his first seder with me as the host.

Jude. My friends Matthew & Melissa brought their precious 4-week-old son to celebrate his first Passover seder in my home.

Bing-O. Last year, my crafty friend Sarah designed "Seder Bingo," a Bingo board with images that relate to Passover -- especially focused on the 10 plagues (in the Passover story, God used plagues like hail and famine to convince the Egyptians to free the Jewish slaves). Just imagine how many laughs circulated my living room while Sam the Bingo caller hollered out, "Boils! Does anyone have boils?"

Dayenu. Since most of the crew has attended the past 3 seders, some of them know the songs better than I do. In the middle of Bingo, my friend Gennaro lead the crowd in a round of "Dayenu," a popular Hebrew song for Passover.

Mensches. That's Yiddish for "people of noble character." Here, I mean it to describe my kitchen assistants. Jamie, my only Jewish friend at the seder, made delicious macaroons (coconut cookies) and charoset (a combo of apples, walnuts, red wine, and cinnamon) and cut her finger in the process (sorry Jamie!). Colin cut blood oranges for the salad (and did not cut himself). Matt sliced the brisket to perfection. Melissa brought to-die-for chocolate-covered strawberries. Mark made an amazing quinoa (pronounced keen-wah) dish. Sarah helped make the matzah ball soup. Gloria told me the apricot chicken was made out of sunshine. Jes played camera-lady and took amazing pics (especially of the asparagus!). Laura helped me time everything. Everyone brought delish bottles of wine (and we made it through 10 bottles). A seder really is about bringing people together, and I fell asleep thinking of all the people in my life for which I'm thankful and blessed.

Passover Quick Pic!

2009-04-09T09:16:00.005-04:00

More details later tonight -- I promise. But all in all, it was a great success and made me so happy! Big hugs to all my friends for coming to celebrate. At the end of the seder, you're supposed to say "Next year in Jerusalem!" in hopes that you'll spend Passover in the holy land. I say, "Next year in Brooklyn!"

Passover Prep: I'm cooking for 20 people!

2009-04-07T00:10:00.005-04:00

Your midnight vulture is back in action! Only this time I have a good excuse for staying up late. On Wednesday I'll be hosting a Passover seder for 20 of my friends. I'm so excited!

As a kid, Passover seders were usually spent with my Grandma, Grandpa, and Great Aunt Claire in good ole' Boca Raton, Florida. As a teenager, I spent one memorable Passover with my California cousins, who go all out for the holiday. They "part the red sea" by making everyone walk through a red curtain, and they even "float baby Moses down the river" by sending a baby doll in a basket down the length of their backyard pool. 40 guests -- a mix of family and friends, Jews and non-Jews -- join in their celebration. It definitely inspired me.

So, when I moved to Brooklyn 4 years ago, I decided I'd throw a seder for my friends. It became an annual tradition, and it has grown and evolved each year. This year, it's my first time hosting a seder in my very own apartment, and I've upped the headcount to 20. There's a brisket in the slow cooker, a kugel (noodle pudding) in the freezer, and matzah ball soup cooling on the stove. More dishes will be cooked in the coming days, and then Wednesday is the big night.

Tonight's Matzah Ball Soup was quite a success. My dear friend Sarah offered to come over and help me cook. Together we kerplunked little matzah balls into the boiling water and watched them expand to twice their size. As the NCAA championship began, we sat on my couch and tasted the soup. The broth was salty, the matzah balls were fluffy, and the carrots had softened to perfection. It made me even more excited for Wednesday! (Click here to see more pics of me and Sarah cooking!)

Do you have any favorite Passover or other holiday dishes? Share them here!

Telling Time: Before Sally and After Sally

2009-04-02T21:09:00.004-04:00

The finale of "ER" is on tonight. How long has that show been on the air? I wondered today. Well, my mom liked the show, and she passed away 6 1/2 years ago... which means it was on for a few years before that. 10 years, I estimated. (To answer the trivia question, it's 15 years).

But it made me stop and think: Sally's part of my everyday math. Events in my life happened pre-Sally or post-Sally. And the more years that pass, the more of Sally's favorite things pass, too. TV shows end. Her flowered socks that I wear get holey. Photos of us smiling fade.

Stuff is just stuff, though. I'm realizing more and more that I need to forget the material items and tune into my memories. I remember "ER" and "Chicago Hope" started the same year, and my mom often debated which one she liked better. I remember she thought George Clooney was sexy and Noah Wyle had a big nose. I remember she hated that the commercials were always so much louder than the show, and she'd scowl and lower the volume so we could chat.

What quirky qualities do you remember about someone you lost?

Tell me about you!

2009-03-30T22:24:00.002-04:00

March officially marks the highest traffic month of Sally's Circle, so I wanted to take a moment to thank you for being so supportive and encouraging during the past 31 days. From the birth of a new mommy to making big decisions to my (finally!) completed book proposal, it's been a long but productive month. I couldn't have done it without you.

I especially want to thank the majority of you who breeze in and out of the blog in ghost-like fashion, with no trace of ever having been here. You might be silent, but your mere presence means the world to me.

To celebrate this month's success, I want to play a little game. I always blab so much about my life -- now I want to know a little about yours. Please leave a comment (you can choose "Anonymous" if you'd like to remain private) and tell me one thing about yourself. It could be anything: how you're feeling today, the name of a loved one you've lost or miss or are praying for, why you come to Sally's Circle, etc. I'm excited to get to know you better.

Family Rules: Dinner with Chef Jordan

2009-03-26T00:00:00.005-04:00

My brother, Jordan, invited me, Mark, and our friends Udi and Hila over for dinner last night at the NYC apartment he moved into 6 months ago. It was one of his first times hosting. When I asked what he was going to cook, he said, "I don't know, but I only have one pot and one pan." I knew we were in for a memorable night. Here are the highlights:

Toilet Trouble. The first thing I did when I got there was clog the toilet. (No, not on purpose, and I swear all I did was pee!) Water gushed and piled a few inches high on the bathroom floor. Jordan had to wash a load of towels he used to stop the flooding. And our pitbull Sadie (that's her in the pic!) tried to maul the maintence man, who came armed with a plunger and a mop.

Top Chef. Jordan "cooked" dinner. This meant he watched water boil for pasta while ordering me to arrange the appetizers, slice cherry tomatoes, cut fresh mozarella cheese, set the table, pour the wine, and wash the dishes. I even used a salad spinner -- who uses those anymore?

Pasta Puddle. While draining the pasta in a colander in the sink (Jordan's only task of the night), one wrong flip of the wrist cannonballed half the penne into the dirty sink. We washed it off. As Udi and Mark agreed, worse things happen at restaurants!

Picture all this happening while Sadie barks at every noise, Jordan and I get super-distracted by preparing supper, and Udi and Hila grill Mark about projects they're working on together. I was smart to get two bottles of wine, although a third wouldn't have been a bad idea!

All kidding aside, on the cab ride home (which my brother insisted on slipping me a $20 for, like the sweetly protective older bro he's always been), Mark and I talked about what a nice time we had. "You worship your brother, you know that?" Mark said, eyebrows raised. I tried to deny it, but it's true. Older siblings have a special place in a younger sibling's heart. In my eyes, Jordan's always been my idol. I'd slice cherry tomatoes all day for him -- and I know, in a bind, OK, a really, really big bind -- he'd do the same for me.

Are you close with your siblings, or as opposite as night and day?

From a Special Guest Blogger: "I miss the President of my advisory committee!"

2009-03-23T21:49:00.013-04:00

Hi everyone -- remember my friend Michelle who wrote a beautiful post in December about missing buying holiday presents for her mom? She's back again to share her thoughts about how to make big decisions without her mom -- something I can definitely relate to. Take it away, Michelle!

HEADLINE: Without the President of her advisory committee, Michelle finds change and making important decisions difficult.

That headline has so far only appeared in my head – but if someone were to interview me about the challenges you face after losing your mom, this would be near the top.

My mom Barbara died from pancreatic cancer in 2006. She was a great mom, my best friend and, yes, the President of my advisory committee.

Change is never easy for anyone, but change after loss has its own set of issues. The problem is how do I make big decisions and changes in my life when my mom – who was always there for advice, validation, and a sounding board – is not here anymore?

I am more comfortable in the space where life used to be. The past. Before mom died. Before everything changed. The past is an easier place to be…for awhile…because you don't have to deal with the present or future. But as time goes on, you want to have your full slice of life. It requires acknowledging loss and trying to find a way to move forward without forgetting the past. It is a balancing act that I continue to tweak. So, I am living in the present, longing for the past, and unsure of the future. No wonder my head is spinning!

I’ve got a big change coming up in my life – a move to another state. Even though I am an adult who is able to accomplish things all the time, I feel that I will somehow be incapable of accomplishing this task without my mom. I know that it's not really true, but that is how it feels. The truth is that it just won't be as fun or as easy without her – but it is what it is.

So, where do I go from here?

You’ll notice I used the term "advisory committee" above. That means that there are other people in my life who I can look to for advice and encouragement. I am lucky to have my dad, my sister Marci, and good friends all of whom I can (and do) go to for support. I can also look inside for the answers. Inside is where all of the years that I had with my mom are kept. I can access her from there: what she instilled in me, the history she left for me. In this instance, she would tell me to think of the big picture, realize that the positives outweigh the negatives, and have fun, enjoy, why not!

So, I am going to listen to my mom’s voice and go for it – with a positive attitude! And, since she is still weighing in on the matter, I can blame her if things don't go well…just for old time’s sake!

A quick Sunday night update

2009-03-22T21:17:00.003-04:00

Hi there. I hope you had a nice weekend! I got to spend lots of time with my best friend Laura. My favorite part was taking a 10-mile bike ride on the boardwalk, overlooking the beach. What a view! And, of course, great chatting along the way.

I've been feeling a bit guilty because I told you all about my BIG MEETING for my book, and then I never gave you an update on how it went! Well, it went really well. The woman I met with was very supportive about my book idea, and she suggested a few other people I should talk to within the publishing company. So, as of last Wednesday, my 62-page book proposal is in the hands of three people -- and I'm waiting to hear back from them.

As I've said before, and as Tom Petty said in a song way before me, "the waiting is the hardest part. " To help my nerves, I've been trying to amp up my exercise routine. I ran 2 1/2 miles today (a big milestone for me, since I usually only run 2 miles and I'm really trying to break that plateau). Maybe I'll even try that "Boot Camp" class again at my gym this week; after all, nothing's more distracting than painful lunges!

I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything about the book. 'Til then, I'll keep ya updated on all the other stuff going on.

xoxo,
Marisa

P.S. Were you as devastated as I was about Natasha Richardson's sudden death? My heart goes out to her two teenage sons. I hope they find support through this sadness.

Sally and I believe in signs -- do you?

2009-03-17T13:42:00.003-04:00

Here are the signs I've seen in the past few days...

1. My TV stopped working. The clunky box that distracts me nightly with Top Chef, CNN, and Will and Grace reruns made a funny sound for a few days, and now it makes no sound at all. (Yes, I've tried raising the volume, and no it's not on mute thankyouverymuch). First I was frustrated (OK, I'm still a little frustrated), but then I saw it as a sign... I wasn't meant to have any distractions the past few days. I was meant to work on and complete by book proposal. Luckily, my iPod provided me with Elliott Smith, Neutral Milk Hotel, Cat Power, and Mirah to keep my writing batteries charged.

2. My pin fell off. I wear a Kimya Dawson pin on my jacket that says her album title, "Remember That I Love You." After taking a lovely, sunny walk around the neighborhood to celebrate my book proposal, I spun through my office's revolving door and heard a clink on the sidewalk. I looked down and there was my pin. I'm sure as sure can be that it was Sally smiling and saying, "Remember that I love you."

3. It's St. Proposal Day. My walk outside was filled with celebration. Men wore plastic green top hats. Girls wore 4-leaf clovers tacked to their shirts. Laughter and ruckus echoed from Irish pubs into the midtown streets. They all think it's St. Patty's Day; only I know it's St. Proposal Day.

Do you believe in signs? What signs have you seen throughout your life?

Book Update: I finally finished my book proposal!

2009-03-17T01:18:00.003-04:00

Well, you can't see it, but I'm smiling a tired and satisfied smile. It's 1:19AM on St. Patty's Day, and I just finished my book proposal. Big sigh of relief.

It's 62 pages long. Of course, two-thirds of that is sample chapters, but still. It's by far the longest Word doc I've ever been required to create. All my college papers were 1-20 pages long, and the majority were 1-3. After all, I was being trained to write magazine articles, not novels. That used to be a joke, but now it's serious. I'm writing a novel. Sometimes I still need to take a step back and say "Whoa."

But don't worry. There's motivation behind my madness. Remember that "big important meeting" that got canceled two weeks ago? It's rescheduled for Wednesday -- as in tomorrow. This could be a big step in finding a publisher... or it could be a total flop. Only Wednesday will tell.

Wish me luck -- not for the actual meeting, but cross your fingers for me that it doesn't get canceled again! At this point I'm done with nerves. I'm so ready to get this baby started!

In Awe of Motherhood: A new mommy is born

2009-03-15T21:30:00.003-04:00

I have terrific news: My dear friends Melissa and Matthew had a baby boy named Jude! They're my first friends to have a baby, and Friday was the first time I visited a hospital maternity ward and held a 2-day-old baby in my arms. In a word: wow.

But what overwhelmed me most was seeing Melissa transform into a mommy. She's such a motherly, warm person to begin with, so actual motherhood comes naturally to her. Whether swaddling her baby "like a burrito," rocking him back and forth to soothe his cries, or quietly explaining to him why breast milk makes him gassy, she just felt like the epitome of a mom. And not just any mom -- a good mom.

Witnessing such a moment made me think of Sally. I imagined what she looked like in the hospital room after giving birth to me. I heard the sweet nothings she coo'ed into my newborn ears. I felt her soft gaze upon me. I sensed her loving spirit.

In that room with Melissa and Matthew and baby Jude, a new family whose love made even the mustard hospital walls glow, I felt all the love in the world.

My blog was on Glamour.com yesterday!

2009-03-13T10:01:00.006-04:00

Guess what???

Sally's Circle was featured on Glamour.com's "Life with Cancer" blog yesterday! The blog is written by a wonderful woman named Erin Zammett Ruddy, a leukemia patient who has been documenting her life with cancer since she was diagnosed at age 23. She's a wonderful writer, a mom of a cutie-pie toddler boy, one of the bravest people I know, and super-nice to boot. How could you not instantly love her? It's impossible!

Click here to read the post I wrote yesterday!
Click here to read a post I wrote on my mom's books
Click here to read my very first post for Glamour.com

Grief Relief: Giving yourself a well-earned break!

2009-03-10T17:39:00.007-04:00

Hi everyone!

Thanks for being so supportive in my last blog post. I never thought I'd be able to find so much love from this blog--both from friends and total strangers (who now feel like best friends). You're all really valuable to me, and I hope you know that!

I haven't "spoken" to my mom yet, but I do feel stronger, so I know she is looking out for me. Last night I gave myself a well-earned break from the grieving process. I left work at 6PM on the dot (that's considered early in the magazine world!), took a class called "Boot Camp" at my gym (please never ask me to do lunges ever again), and cooked a new recipe (Lentil & Sausage Soup, totally to die for). In between, I jumped and danced around my apartment. After feeling sad for a few days, feeling happy felt AMAZING! Do you know that feeling?

Tonight I'm giving myself another break and heading to a bar that has Trivia Night Tuesdays. I better go study cnn.com so I know some answers and don't seem like a total dunce!

A therapist once told me that grief comes in waves. Boy was she right. The good news is that waves roll in and they roll out. Luckily, this wave has sailed for now, and I'm more than happy to be back on shore with my feet planted in the sand. It's scary during high tide, but no matter what the issue -- grief, stress, a broken heart -- you'll make it through, too.

What do you do to give yourself a break? I won't judge you if your answer is chick flicks.

Speaking Up: How to talk to lost loved ones

2009-03-09T09:12:00.004-04:00

I admit it. I'm being totally stubborn.

I'm facing a big decision, and I really need my mother's words of wisdom. But instead of talking to her, I'm stuck in a cycle of feeling angry, frustrated, and mopey. The smallest thing will send me into a fit (just ask my poor boyfriend, who gets the brunt of it!).

This happened to me once before, over the summer. I invited all my relatives to my new apartment and cooked a big feast. But all morning and all that day, I couldn't shake the disappointment that my mom wouldn't be there. It was only later, when I talked to her in my head, that I realized she was there--just in a different way.

Now I need to find the strength to let go of the anger and talk to her again.

How do you let go of frustration? What helps? Running? Yoga? Religion? Therapy? I'm open to trying anything at this point!

Parentless Parents: Take a survey from an amazing author!

2009-03-06T14:40:00.004-05:00

Hi there.

In working on my book, I've actually started to make a few "author friends." One woman I've had the privilege of meeting is Allison Gilbert. She's an amazing writer on parent loss, having had the misfortune of losing her own parents at a young age. I especially love her book Always Too Soon, a compilation of firsthand essays written by celebrities who lost both parents. Did you know this happened to Rosanne Cash and even Ice T? Their honest accounts bring them down from celeb status and make them so human.

I had breakfast with Allison about a month ago, and our similar experiences (losing a parent) and professions (writing) made it feel like we were instant friends. She was so warm, and the experience really motivated me to keep working on my book (it was at a time when my confidence was shaky). She advised me to take weekend days to write and then plan something social that night like dinner with friends, that way I get a break from the grieving and writing process. It's totally worked! I'm so grateful for her words of wisdom. She was there for me at a time when all I really needed a mother's voice saying, "You can do it!"

Allison's working on a new book called Parentless Parents, which is about how to raise your own kids when your parents have passed away. This is a book I will definitely buy when the time comes -- I'll need it for sure! As part of the book research, Allison needs "parentless parents" to take a survey. If you would be kind enough to pass this survey to anyone who fits the description, Allison and I would be so appreciative!

Take the survey here!

The butterflies are... postponed

2009-03-03T22:41:00.003-05:00

Hi all!

Thanks for your sweet wishes on my last blog post. Here's the update.

1- Writing group. My meeting went really well. The three girls in my group had minimal changes to my book proposal, so as soon as I make the few edits, it will be officially ready to "shop around" to literary agents and publishers. It's all starting to feel very real.

2. Big meeting. Well, unfortunately, she had to postpone our meeting. A bit of a bummer, but also a relief. I felt SO NERVOUS about the meeting -- like, not normal nerves. Crazy nerves. So now I'm glad I have another week to regroup and go into the meeting feeling 100% fantastic.

Have you ever worked on a project so much bigger than you that it scared the daylights out of you? Share your tips for how to calm down. I need them!

I have (book) butterflies in my stomach

2009-03-01T23:28:00.004-05:00

Ladies and gents, Monday and Tuesday are bound to be big days for my book.

MONDAY: I have a meeting with my writing group. I meet with three other writers (two of them wrote "The Hookup Handbook"!) and we review each other's work. Tomorrow they'll give me feedback on my book proposal -- a 62-page document that details everything about my book: an overview, marketing plan, chapter outline, and sample chapters. The proposal is what I'll eventually send to literary agents and publishers, so I'm really curious to hear what they say.

TUESDAY - I have a meeting with a super-smart woman who says my book might be a fit for a certain book publishing company -- and she has the pull to forward it on to the right person. I'd say more but I'm afraid of jinxing it.

Please cross everything for me this week: fingers, toes, whatever it takes. I need it!

xo,
Maris

Trying to figure out how grief works -- honestly

2009-02-26T09:12:00.010-05:00

I haven't been completely honest with you this week, and I feel guilty about that.

I wrote the blog about my mom's birthday on the night before her birthday. At the time, I felt optimistic that this birthday would be easier than past ones. After all, this would be the 6th year my family has been through this. And I strongly believe that time heals.

But sometimes that's all just bull. The day comes, and it's as sad as it ever was. Dad and Jordan both get stubborn and argue with each other. I play referee and ask them to be flexible, to get along, to stop fighting. We can't agree on anything: the time to meet, whether our dog Sadie should come or not, what restaurant to eat at afterward. We drive around aimlessly and end up at a diner none of us want to be at. But really, none of us want to be anywhere on this day. As my dad says, "It's not a good day."

I don't want to tell you these things because I want to believe -- and I want you to believe -- that it gets easier with time. Part of that is true. But I also think we need to accept that some days just suck. And often times those days are birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. They're just hard. Even 6 years later, I have trouble admitting that because I just wish I felt better about it.

Grief has a time delay sometimes, too. I got in a big fight with Mark on Tuesday and bawled my eyes out. How much of that was leftover stress from Mom's birthday? It's really hard to tell where one emotion ends and one emotion begins.

I'm sorry if this isn't the sunshine picture I usually paint. But I believe in being honest with you. I hope you'll be honest with me, too.

Big shout out to my girl Ashley who started a blog about surviving from a rare form of liver cancer. She's so brave in so many ways! Go give her some comment love.

Surprise Party: Discovering Sally's real age

2009-02-24T00:11:00.007-05:00

At the cemetery on Sunday, huddled under umbrellas and staring at Sally's tombstone in the rain, Dad asked my brother and I, "How old would Mom have been today?"

"65," I answered smugly. "I wrote about it in my blog last night."

"Wrong," Dad said.

"No! I'm right! 65!" I said.

"Wrong," Dad said again.

"I counted! 2009 - 1943..." I said

"...is 66," Dad finished.

"Shoot! I lied to everyone. I said she was 65." I said.

"Well, mom was 2 1/2 years older than me, and I'll be 64 this year," Dad said.

"You're going to be 64?" I asked.

"Yup," he said. "Like the Beatles song."

"Dad," I pretended to scold, "are you getting old?" I caught his eye and smiled.

"I hope not!" he laughed.

"'Will ya still need me? Will ya still feed me? When I'm 64'." I sang, off-key. Click the "Play" button below to hear the Beatles sing it!

February 22: It's Mom's birthday today

2009-02-22T00:36:00.004-05:00

Today's sort of a special episode of Sally's Circle. It's February 22, a date that means a lot to me and my family. It's Sally's birthday.

Of all the holidays that remind me of Mom, her birthday is one of the hardest. Birthdays are super-happy celebrations in my family. We always go out to dinner, give cards and presents, and blow out candles. It's a time for family and togetherness and laughter. It's strange to feel sad on a holiday that was always so happy.

So, on February 22, I often can't help but imagine what we would do today if Mom were still alive. Maybe I'd go home to Long Island to go to Tofu, Mom's favorite Chinese restaurant. Or maybe Mom and Dad would have a new favorite restaurant in Long Island. Or maybe since Jordan (my bro) and I both live in the city now, Mom and Dad would drive in to Manhattan and we'd try someplace new. It would definitely be the 4 of us. Or maybe Mom would ask if Mark wanted to come, too, and he'd say yes because he liked her so much and thought she was so funny. Dinner would be filled with trading hilarious stories and Mom would probably say something flirty to the cute waiter, and I'd feign total embarrassment, and then later brag to all my friends about how she gets more and more ridiculous every year.

Tomorrow I will go home to Long Island. My dad, brother, and I have a tradition where we go to the cemetery together on her birthday (we also go in August on the anniversary of when she died). We spend a little time there, anywhere from a few minutes to 20 minutes or so. We talk about how old she'd be now (65 -- shh, don't tell her I told you), the things she liked (teaching, the Gap, Seinfeld), the things we miss (her stories, her laugh). Sometimes we remember the funeral or sitting shiva or nice things other people said about her. We debate whether this year it feels like she's been gone a long time or short time (after all, what is 6 years?). I usually spend most of the time talking to Mom in my head, telling her what's going on in my life and imagining her responses. Before we leave, Dad says "We miss you" and makes sure we all hug. He's such a good dad.

After the cemetery, we go to a diner and eat lunch. At lunch, we don't usually talk about Mom or the past. We talk about the present: Jordan's real estate business, my job or how Mark's doing, dad's girlfriend Susan, recent things in the news, etc. It's general, comfortable, run-of-the-mill talk. And I think it's usually good for all of us to just spend time together without necessarily dwelling on the birthday. After all, that's what the cemetery was for. I think we get most of it out there.

So, with the Saturday Night Live closing music buzzing from my living room TV, I'll also bid you goodnight. Wish me luck tomorrow, but don't worry about me. I think it'll be OK.

Do you have any traditions that bring you comfort? How do you feel about going to the cemetery? Do you feel like that person is there, or not really?

Help From Above: Mom led me to my favorite photo

2009-02-17T01:30:00.003-05:00

Hi there,

It's late at night (way past my usual bedtime), but I'm having trouble turning off my computer and going to sleep, so I thought I'd write to you.

A funny thing happened this afternoon. I was looking for photos of my mom to use in my book proposal, and I realized I couldn't find my favorite photo (the one you see here).

Remember that this photo was taken in the '90s, way before the invention of digital cameras, so the only keepsake I have of it is the actual photograph -- and maaaybe the negatives somewhere in a shoebox, but who knows?

Perhaps I should explain why I love this photo. It was taken at my cousin Deena's Bat Mitzvah in Los Angeles. I was 17 and senior year had just begun, plus I was in California with my 4 closest girl cousins. What could be better? More importantly, the event is the last memory I have of my mom being 100% healthy and happy. The party was in the fall, and my mom was diagnosed that January.

I know it's stupid, but in the last 6 years since she died, I've made this "the wandering photo." Sometimes it appears crammed between two CDs in my bookcase. Sometimes it's used as a bookmark. Sometimes it's propped up against a different framed photo. Sometimes it's tacked to my bulletin board. I just really like to "happen upon it," since it always makes me smile.

Well, today when I was actually looking for it (and not just "happening upon it"), it was gone. I searched everywhere. All the places I mentioned above, plus my photo shoebox, my nightstand, my sock drawer -- everywhere I could think of. I cursed myself for being so disorganized and swore if I found it I'd change my irresponsible habits. How could I treat photos of my mom so carelessly? These are all I have left.

Frustrated and depressed, I slumped against the side of my bed and took some deep breaths. Calm down, I told myself. Think clearly and the hiding spot will come to you.

Suddenly, as if a hand were guiding me, I squinted more closely at the bookshelf right in front of me. Sure enough, tucked under a few new novels was my photograph. I thought I might start crying, but as soon as I saw the photo, it made me smile -- even more, because I knew my mom had led me to it.

Unexpected Connections: The instant bond of parent loss

2009-02-15T21:15:00.009-05:00

Happy Sunday!

I'm home from Myrtle Beach and having a bad-TV-movies and jammies night. I've already watched Must Love Dogs and Failure to Launch. Oh, and did I mention I ate take-out Thai? In some ways, this is the best kind of night.

My trip to Myrtle Beach to help with the marathon was hard work but also relaxing. Getting 70-degree weather and warm sunshine can do amazing things for the soul. I was also really proud of my friend Jes, who walked the half-marathon, and for Team Prevention's 100+ readers who walked the half- or full-marathon. Big congrats to everyone!

I didn't walk this year (maybe next year!), but I did reach a different kind of milestone. While chatting with a coworker during the trip, she revealed to me that her father passed away six months ago. We shared a really nice moment remembering our parents, talking about their lives and deaths, and appreciating how being together made us feel less alone.

"It really does get easier," I told her, the words sounding wrong as soon as I said them. After all, when everyone told that to me, I didn't believe them. Only later, when I had healed more, did I understand that what they said was true.

I just wish that as someone who went through loss, I had a more sincere-sounding phrase. I guess those cliche sayings are actually the most true, though, and that's why they've been said so many times by so many people.

So tonight I'm wishing good thoughts for my new friend, and to all of you, who are also my new friends. Now back to TV ; )

I'm heading to Myrtle Beach!

2009-02-12T10:21:00.003-05:00

You must think I'm quite the traveler. First Syracuse, NY (read about my adventures here) and now Myrtle Beach, SC. Two trips in one month is rare for me. It's left me exhausted and excited all at once!

Luckily, Myrtle Beach holds no emotional strings for me the way Syracuse did. In fact, I've never been to South Carolina before. I'm going to help out at the BI-LO Myrtle Beach Marathon, one of several events throughout the country in which Prevention magazine (my employer) organizes Team Prevention, a group of women who walk a full or half marathon together. It's an amazing event where I get to actually meet the readers of Prevention magazine and Prevention.com.

About a year and half ago, shortly after joining Prevention, I walked a half marathon with my close friend (and used-to-be roomie) Jes who is also on staff there. You can see us celebrating our glory above.

I planned to walk the half marathon at Myrtle Beach, but injured my feet in the training process. Stupid blisters! Instead, I'll help out, get to know the readers, and maybe walk the last few miles with some of the readers. That's usually when they need the most cheerleading (and as you can probably tell, I do love being a cheerleader!).

Wish me luck. I'll try to log on and report from the beach!

xo,
Marisa

My Syracuse Trip: How to forgive the scene of a crime

2009-02-09T21:39:00.008-05:00

If you're unhappy, Syracuse University could easily make you suicidal. Sunshine is nonexistent from October through March, making it the epitome of a gray and dreary winter. It's no shocker that this is a prime location for S.A.D., aka Seasonal Affective Disorder, a type of depression that occurs largely from lack of sunlight. To top it off, Syracuse, NY gets more snow than any other large U.S. city, averaging 115 inches each winter.

But I'm going to tell you what I realized over the weekend, on my first trip back to the place I spent 4 years of college: It's not Syracuse's fault.

For the past 9 years, since my freshman year in 2000, I have been angry with the Central New York city. Syracuse took me 5 hours away from my sick mother. Syracuse was where I returned just 2 weeks after she died. Syracuse was where I experienced the hell of my grief: the overeating, the weight gain, the pneumonia, the inability to cry because of how afraid I was to face my own sadness. Syracuse was the place I said "good riddance" to after graduation and told my roommates that I had no desire to return.

And yet, this past weekend I did return -- and I smiled so much my face actually hurt at one point! Seeing my friend Marissa with her roommates reminded me of my girlfriends, and how much fun and laughter we shared together. Meeting with my old professors made me reflect on how much I learned from studying under some of the most intelligent journalists I know. And playing Flip Cup and Asshole at my favorite bar, Chuck's, made me realize how much FUN I had in college.

Grief in the land of beer pong is both grief and beer pong. Maybe being able to let loose during those years is what balanced my grief and made me eventually able to accept my mom's death... because I knew I could still have fun, and that because of that, I'd be able to live.

Reporting live from the airport!

2009-02-05T16:36:00.003-05:00

Hi gang!

Well, I officially love Jetblue. They redesigned their JFK terminal and I never thought I'd say this about an airport, but this place is HOT! Faux French bistros, a steak house, trendy shops, free WiFi, and a sleek bars everywhere you look. Did you ever think you'd be able to sip a martini just a few feet away from your gate? It's awesome.

I'm being boring and drinking Poland Spring instead of a cosmopolitan. No, I'm not a prude. I'm just saving myself for $3.50 pitchers at Chuck's, my favorite bar at Syracuse. I have priorities, ya know.

They're calling my flight -- gotta run! Wish me luck.

P.S. I'm not nervous anymore. I'm super excited!!!!

Grief in the Land of Beer Pong: Reflecting back on my college days

2009-02-03T23:25:00.005-05:00

I graduated from Syracuse University in 2004. Now, 5 years later, I'm going back to visit for the first time since graduation. I leave in 2 days!

College was a mixed experience for me. I made the most amazing friends (still some of my closest), got an incredible education which shaped my career in magazine journalism, and really grew and found myself -- whether through playing drums in my band or falling in (and horribly out) of love.

But college was different for me than it was for most people. My mom was diagnosed with cancer a few months before I received my letter of acceptance from SU. Leaving my family to attend school 5 hours away left me worried and guilt-ridden and lonely at times. Nights were often spent chatting on the phone with my mom instead of goofing off with my new friends. And during the summer between my sophomore and junior years -- smack in the middle of my college experience -- my mom passed away. My last two years at Syracuse were spent grieving in the land of beer pong.

Despite (or in spite) of everything, I'm going back to SU to do something I always dreamed of: talking to the students. I'll chat with them about my job as a web editor for Prevention magazine, but my focus will be job hunting and The Resume Hero, a resume and cover letter side business my boyfriend Mark and I created.

Don't worry about me, though. My super-awesome ex-Prevention.com intern, another Marissa B. (can you believe it?), will escort me around and even put me up on her couch. I'm lucky to have such an upbeat, sassy gal by my side during a trip that's bound to be nostalgic and emotional even beyond my expectations.

I'll report back either from campus or as soon as I get back on Saturday. Wish me luck!

xoxo,
Marisa

It's not easy being seen

2009-01-27T20:13:00.004-05:00

OK. So I know I'm a "blogger" and I'm supposed to feel comfortable in the public eye. But I'm going to let you in on a secret: Some days it's tough to put myself out there. Today was one of those days.

I guest-blogged on Glamour.com today (see it here). All day I felt so proud. 17 thoughtful comments! Triple my typical Sally's Circle traffic! And so many people congratulating and complimenting little old me.

But at 7PM, as I turned off the light in my office and entered the chilly city streets, ice cold tears fell onto my cheeks. I can't fully explain why. But I'll try...

Sometimes I wish I were an expert on something other than grief. I dream of being an expert on juggling or knitting or flying kites. Imagine if I could write to you all day about kites. OK, I guess that would be a frivolous way to spend my hours.

But now that writing about grief is becoming part of my "job," when do I get to leave this "work" at the "office"? What about the days when I don't want to grieve? What about the days when I don't want to relive my loss? When does writing about grief become a way of prolonging my grief and dragging me back into a painful area of my past when part of me is ready to move on?

Remind me that it's therapeutic. Remind me that it's important. Remind me that I'm meant to write a book about this experience.

Most of all, remind me that it means something to you.

Mommy, I have the sniffles

2009-01-25T20:57:00.004-05:00

I caught a cold.

Blame it on the cold-then-warm January weather, the fact that I can't resist hugging friends even when they're sick, or the suspicious commonality that my boyfriend Mark got the sniffles at exactly the same time I did. Who gave it to whom? Who knows?! Either way, the two of us have been nose-blowing comrades all weekend.

Misery does indeed love company. I tend to get bummed out when I'm sick (does that happen to you?), but Mark's companionship has definitely lifted my spirits -- much like Sally's care used to.

When I was sick as a kid, my mom used to stay home from work to take care of me. She would always make Lipton's Chicken Noodle Soup. I know it's just a package, but it really tasted so good just because she made it.

Since the soup wouldn't be the same without her, this weekend I made my own version of mom's meals. I ordered in Chinese food (a favorite meal from Sally's kitchen, as explained in a previous post) and tried to cure my cold with Hot & Sour Soup. I drank mug after mug of tea, not Lemon Soother (her favorite) but some of my favorites: Raspberry Ginger, Indian Chai, Hibiscus. And today I made a huge pot of hearty, soul-warming Turkey Corn Chili (see the Rachael Ray recipe here). Chili is actually a favorite from Bill's kitchen -- my dad.

Now I'm off to finish watching Pirates of the Caribbean 2, take a big shot of Nyquil, and snuggle up to Mr. Sniffles (aka Mark). Wish us a speedy recovery!

Thinking back: How to deal with finding out your parent has cancer

2009-01-19T11:24:00.008-05:00

I've been working on the first two chapters of my book, which focus on my mom's diagnosis. My mom, Sally, found out she had pancreatic cancer on January 13, 2000. Nine years have passed, but I still remember that day so well. I don't think my family will ever forget it.

If you (or someone you know) has recently been faced with the diagnosis of a loved one, here are some bits of advice that might help.

1- Listen up.
When you're receiving traumatic news, it's easy to zone out or get so panicked that you don't really listen. When my mom told us the news, I was so stunned that I barely remember what was said -- except, of course, for the scariest part: that she might have only 2 months to live. I was so obsessed with that 2-month deadline that I wasn't as hopeful or supportive as she needed me to be. Meanwhile, she ended up living for 2 1/2 years.

2. Question everything.
Being skeptical may sound like a form of denial (and, OK, it might be), but it's also part of being a smart patient. Even if the first doctor's diagnosis seems accurate, encourage your loved one to get a second opinion. Sally's first doctor gave her 2 months to live, but when she saw a pancreatic cancer specialist in NYC, he told her he had methods that kept patients alive for up to 10 years. That's a huge difference. Additionally, be skeptical of info or stats you find on the Internet. If you read something that worries you, ask mom or dad to consult the doctor about it.

3. Be there.
Whether you're scared out of your mind or numb to it all (or both, as I was), try your hardest to be available to the person who has been diagnosed. Amplify your own feelings times a million, and that's what the patient is feeling. In Sally's case, I felt closest to her and most proud of myself when I was able to really and truly be there for her -- even if it was only to bring her a cup of tea and a hug.

4. Open up.
Family members, relatives, and friends will want to be there for you. Let them. Talking about the situation may be hard, but feeling alone only makes it worse. Here's another plus: the connections you make during this time may last a lifetime. When I think about my closest circle of friends and family, they're all people who reached out to me and made sure I was OK. I'm forever lucky to have them.

5. Get help.
Therapy still has a negative connotation for lots of people. Guess what? It's not just the crazies who need someone to talk to. It's all of us. While my mom was sick and after she passed away, I saw several therapists and social workers who really helped me tremendously. It's easier to find one than you think. You can ask your general physician for a recommendation or call your insurance company and ask for providers in your area. Or, if you're uninsured or looking for other affordable therapy options, you can call local universities (they often provide lower rates) or Google around for therapists in your area who offer rates on a sliding scale.

Please pass this to anyone you think it might help. Especially if a friend is going through this, you might not know what to say to comfort him/her. I hope Sally's Circle can bring them comfort.

You gotta have girlfriends

2009-01-17T00:11:00.008-05:00

I once asked my mom why she needed to talk on the phone for hours to her friend, Rona. After all, I reasoned, she had Daddy to talk to.

"You can't talk to your husband about eeeverything," she said. "That's what girlfriends are for."

Well, looks like I learned from the pro. Friday nights have been unofficially declared as Girls Night for quite some time now. Whether Laura rushes into the city on the LIRR, or Jes and Sarah and Rachel and I meet up for Thai, or my 4 girl cousins and I order in sushi at Deena's Lower East Side apartment, the week ends -- and the weekend begins -- with my favorite ladies by my side.

We chat about the work week, the plane that crashed into the Hudson, why they bothered to bring back Denny from the dead on Grey's Anatomy, and which shoes really go best with a navy dress at a very winter wedding -- where I'll be heading tomorrow night.

Cold weather may make you dream of cuddling with someone special. But don't forget about your girlfriends. They bring a different kind of warmth. And then the chill ain't so bad.

Goodnight, my friends.

Top 5 little things moms say to comfort kids

2009-01-14T09:16:00.008-05:00

5. "There, there."

4. "Everything'll be okay."

3. "I love you."

2. "I know."

1. [Hug]

Sometimes I tell these things to myself when I have the blues, and they make me feel better.

What little things did/does your mom say to comfort you?

Jump, Missy, jump

2009-01-11T15:39:00.004-05:00

I've always developed later in life. Sometimes by minutes, sometimes by years.

My cousins have a phrase for it: "Jump, Missy, jump!" Let me explain. Rewind to my cousin Susi's 2nd birthday party. On the home video taken that day, you see Susi and all the other kids jumping up and down in a circle. Camera pans to 2-year-old Missy (as my family calls me). Instead of jumping with the other kids, Missy's gazing at the yet-to-be-eaten chocolate cake. A moment later, all the kids stop jumping. Suddenly, Missy starts jumping up and down. All by herself.

Always a little behind. Always a little too late.

Even now, at 26, I'm still sometimes behind. This weekend was spent with my two closest friends from college: Katie and Linda. Katie just got engaged and is inches away from buying her first house. Linda had a beautiful wedding last summer. I love the happiness they each have found, and I'm so excited for their big events. So I say this not in jealousy (I promise, girls!), but in surprise of myself, at my own unreadiness.

Always a little behind. Always a little too late.

Timing is everything, they say. Katie likes to compare life to a highway. Some speed by in the fast lane, some travel right at speed limit, others stay in the slow lane. I admit it: I'm a Sunday driver. I keep my hands on 10 and 2 and proceed with caution. I wear my seat belt. I go slow.

Always a little behind. Always a little too late.

The thing is, I know I'll get there. I always do. I just wonder how to take such a big step into adulthood without my mom. I've already made some imaginary plans for whenever that day may come. I've booked Aunt Sherry for dress shopping. And there are several other "adopted moms" who would help: Aunt Christine and Aunt Max, my best friend Laura's mom, my dad's girlfriend Susan. Plus, my dad's been Mr. Mom (and done an amazing job at it) for quite some time now. I've got plenty of people on my side. Just one person who can't be: Sally.

Do you have any "substitutes" in your circle? Someone special who has stepped up for events big or small?

Did you see Patrick Swayze on Barbara Walters?

2009-01-07T23:59:00.003-05:00

Hi there, midnight vultures.

Were you up late watching Patrick Swayze on the Barbara Walters special? I was.

Here's the background. A little over a year ago, actor Patrick Swayze was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer -- the same disease Sally had. As always with this awful disease, the outlook for the "Ghost" and "Dirty Dancing" star wasn't good. In fact, recent rumors said he had 5 weeks to live.

Well, if you saw him tonight, he sure doesn't look like a man on death row. Unlike most chemo patients, he has a full head of hair. (And yes, ladies, it's still those dreamy waves you remember.) But it's not just the hair that makes him seem healthy. It's him. Cancer has fired him up. He's full of anger at the disease, frustration with chemo, love for his wife, and passion for his acting career (he just filmed 13 episodes of a new TV show called "Beast" -- can you believe it?). Watch the YouTube video clip and you'll see his range of emotions. It's incredible to watch.

Saddest of all was the obvious, overflowing love between Swayze and his wife, Lisa. Married for 33 years, this couple fell in love at first sight and have been in love ever since. Videos from their youth show them dancing together, and they said recently they danced in their kitchen together. Barbara asked Lisa if she has pictured life without him. I thought of my poor dad watching the show alone at home. I wanted to hug him. He couldn't picture life without Sally either. But sometimes, as Lisa said on the show tonight, "life just happens."

A great quote came out of the show. Barbara showed the closing scene from "Ghost," where Swayze's character has to return to heaven. He looks at Demi Moore, tears streaming down her cheeks, and says, "It's amazing, Molly. The love inside, you take it with you." In my experiences, that's true on both ends. I know my mom took all our love for her with her to heaven. And I know we still have all her love here on Earth. That's the thing that doesn't die.

As for the rumors about Swayze's prognosis... who knows? Swayze says he's ready to keep fighting as long as his quality of life is worthwhile. "I'll have you back on the show in 5 years," Walters challenged him. "I'll be there," Patrick said assuredly, then calmly, "or I won't."

Do you think celebrities like Patrick Swayze and Barbara Walters can help lead more research and a cure for pancreatic cancer? What are other ways non-celebs like us can help?

I'm selling my drumset

2009-01-07T22:33:00.006-05:00

I'm selling my drumset. It's true. I keep repeating the phrase so that I'll believe it.

Oh yeah. And I quit my band.

The truth is, my priority in 2009 is you. Writing this blog and working on my book are my New Year's resolutions. It's what I need to do to fully heal.

So I quit my band, The Falsies, who I've played with for 3 1/2 years. And now I'm selling my drumset, the shiny black Tama Swingstar 5-piece set that I've wreaked havoc on for the past 8 years. I posted it on Craigslist and several dudes (of course they're guys, most drummers are) have already contacted me about it.

Here's the fascinating thing: drums don't depreciate in value. I bought the set in 2001, and now, 8 years later, I can sell it for nearly the same price. Drums are sturdy. They can take a beating. I've hit through heads, cracked a ride cymbal, scuffed off the black paint. And still, it continues to play as gorgeously as before.

So how did 5'2, 115 pound little 'ole me start playing? One word: Jordan. My brother played the drums, and I wanted to do everything he did. So I started playing at age 9. Now I'm 26. Do the math, and you'll see I've been playing for 17 years.

I know what you must be thinking: our poor parents. But they both loved it. Mom would sautée shrimp while I banged around cluelessly. "Dinner!" she'd call. "That sounded great!" she'd rave when I came up from the basement. She was our biggest fan.

I went beyond the basement. From the school band to private lessons, my love for drumming only grew when I started playing in bands with friends. My band in college brought a new level of recording CDs, playing at venues, and even going on an international tour (OK, it was the U.S and Canada, but still!).

Actually, my college band was what prompted my parents to buy me this drumset as a Hanukkah present. It was the last Hannukah present my mom ever bought me; she died that following August.

Aside from the "cool" factor, drumming has always been a physical and emotional outlet. Pounding on drums meant releasing pent-up emotions, communicating wordlessly, crying without tears, and proving women can do anything a man can.

Now, by selling my set, I am admitting that a part of an era of my life is over. I do hope I will buy another set and play with another band one day. But who knows?

Have you ever given up something you love in order to make room for something new? How did you cope? Did you ever pick up that hobby again?

Keepsakes and memories

2009-01-05T22:21:00.003-05:00

Hi, friends.

Over the weekend, in an attempt to start the new year with a tidy apartment, I finally went through 4 brown bags of my mother's books.

Sally was quite the reader. When I was a kid, her favorite spot was curled up in bed, two pillows propped behind her, reading a book. Around 9PM I'd bring up her favorite beverage: Lemon Soothers tea with honey and a wedge of fresh lemon. Settling the mug on a pink Kleenex coaster, she'd smile at me and then turn back to Tuesdays with Morrie or the newest smutty novel from Danielle Steel. Occasionally I'd bring a book upstairs and hijack Dad's side of the bed, eager to snuggle beside her.

But these 4 bags didn't include Morrie or Danielle. These were my mom's books from her 20s. How do I know? On the front flap of each book she wrote her maiden name and NYC west village apartment. The collection was a strange mix: trashy '70s romance, classic poetry, Jewish fiction, and female anatomy 101.

My question to you: What do I do with my mother's books? Will holding onto her books help me hold onto my mother? Or is it just paper bound together, collecting dust on a shelf, better suited for Salvation Army than for offering me any salvation? Do we need keepsakes to remember the dead?

Happy New Year from Sally's Circle

2009-01-01T17:44:00.003-05:00

Hi there. Happy 2009!

I'm sorry I haven't written in the past week. I spent the Christmas holiday in Colorado with my boyfriend Mark's family, which was fun and relaxing. Then, the new year swooped in, and suddenly here we are on January 1, 2009. Can you believe it?

Reflecting on the past year, I'm in awe of the healing powers of Sally's Circle. Last night at a New Year's Eve dinner party, a friend spotted me chatting on my cell phone and mouthed, "Are you on the phone with your mom?" Instantly remembering my situation, she began apologizing profusely. I was surprised to find her comment didn't upset me. Ever since I started this blog, I feel like my mom is with me. Rather than lament her physical absence, I'm able to appreciate her spiritual presence. I used to think that was hokey bullshit. Now I realize how much peace it brings me.

I usually make 20+ resolutions. This year I've narrowed it down to two:

1. Write a book. While that may seem like a big feat, it's a project I've been working on for 7 years! When my mom was sick with pancreatic cancer, the two of us decided to write a book together about how her illness changed our relationship. This year I hope to finally complete it and find a publisher. Wish me luck!

2. Continue writing this blog (obviously!). So many wonderful people have commented, emailed, and shared their thoughts on grief, loss, and the uncanny ability to keep smiling through it all. I hope Sally's Circle continues to bring comfort (for you and me) in the coming year.

What's your New Year's resolution?

From a special guest blogger: "I miss buying my mom Hanukkah presents!"

2008-12-18T22:59:00.005-05:00

Hi, my name is Michelle Hersh, and Marisa has kindly offered to let me share a little bit of my story with you.

I am an almost 40 (shhhh!) year old living in the Midwest and Marisa is a 20-something living on the East Coast. What we have in common is that we both lost our fabulous moms to pancreatic cancer. It is rare even at my age to find other people in my general age category who share the pain of losing a parent and even rarer to find someone who has lost that parent to pancreatic cancer. We would rather have our moms here and never have heard about pancreatic cancer, but since that is not the case, we are making the most of it and are becoming fast friends!

My mom, like Sally, was the life of the party, my biggest cheerleader, and the center of our family. My mom Barbara died at 65, two years ago on November 27, 2006. Even amongst tragedy and death the calendar keeps moving on and so do others around you. When a death first occurs, you just want to scream to people in general "Don't you know my mom just died, how can you be carrying on with your life?" Well, carry on they do and in time you find yourself joining them.

Hanukkah was always a fun time at our house. As kids, my sister Marci and I would sneak around for weeks ahead of time trying to find my mom's hiding places. Seeing if we could cajole my dad into giving up a little hint as to what we could expect in our pile of presents. We would light the menorah and open a present (or two!) for eight nights. What I remember most was that my mom would be as excited for us on the eighth night as she was on the first. She delighted in gathering the perfect presents, festive wrapping and seeing us happy. It did not matter if we were 2 or 32 – her enthusiasm was the same.

As I got older, my gift giving to my mom turned from hand made cards and school projects to finding her equally coveted and thoughtful gifts. Apparently she thought the cards to be most important because as I went through her things after she died, she had kept every single card or letter she ever received from not only me, but my sister, my dad, her parents, her siblings and the list goes on. I don't think that she looked at them very often but she had them.

Now, I have them and I do look at them. Each time I do it is like a little present for me because I get to share a memory with my mom even though she is not here to laugh with me. On second thought, she is probably laughing at me, since that makes me more sentimental than I would have ever let on!

Since my mom died, we have tried to move forward with holidays to the best of our ability. It is very hard not having the one person who was most excited about everything here with us but we are settling into a new groove – another part of our "new normal".

We still buy piles of presents for each other, not necessarily extravagant, but a volume of things because that is what mom did. She liked to see the floor covered in presents and seeing that space bare would be too much bear.

Enjoy your holidays! Remember time spent with your loved ones, make new memories as you will cherish them in the future and I promise you that if I can get through it, so can you!

I wear the (Christmas) pants in this relationship!

2008-12-14T23:06:00.011-05:00

I promised I'd tell you about my holiday plans, so here goes...

Even though I'm 100% Jewish, I've always celebrated Chanukah and Christmas. Whenever friends tease me that Jews order Chinese food and go to the movies on Christmas, I say defiantly: "Not me! I celebrate Christmas!"

It started when I was a kid. My cousins Susi and Julia celebrate both holidays, so every Dec. 25 my family traveled from Long Island to Brooklyn to take pictures by the tree and exchange presents. I even had a pair of red and green plaid pants (stylish, I know!) that I dubbed "my Christmas pants!" After my mom passed away, we continued going to their house. Each year, at least one relative would say how strange the holiday felt without my mom. Who knew a Jew would be missed on Christmas!

As a teenager, I also started celebrating Christmas Eve. My best friend Laura's family invited me to their house to indulge in homemade Italian food, Christmas carols edited to include family jokes, and the most delicious cookies I've ever eaten. My favorite were the peanut butter-chocolate kiss ones. Yum!

Last year I began a new tradition. I traveled to Colorado to spend Christmas with my boyfriend Mark's family. On Christmas Eve, after Mark's 6-year-old nephew went to sleep, we all tip-toed downstairs to put our presents under the tree. Never before had I been able to play Santa! The next morning we woke up to a white Christmas. A foot of snow covered the yard and giant snowflakes fell slowly from the sky. It was the most picturesque scene. Imagine me -- a little Jewish girl from Long Island -- seeing a white Christmas in Colorado!

This year Mark and I will travel back to Colorado for round 2 of Christmas with his fam. Tingles of excitement (OK, and 10% nerves!) flutter in my stomach. I'm happy for another chance to get to know everyone better and spend time together. I also love who Mark is in his home state. There's a calm and warmth he never quite achieves in busy-busy New York City.

Do you have any advice for visiting your significant other's family?

How do the holidays make you feel?

2008-12-11T23:07:00.005-05:00

Good evening. I hope you're keeping warm on this rainy night.

Now that it's mid-December, the official holiday countdown has begun. Commercials nag me to buy gifts, neighbors put up crazy lights (one house plays "Jingle Bells" at a dog whistle pitch!), and coworkers ask how you'll spend your time off.

Chanukah, Christmas, and the New Year evoke strong feelings in most people. And for anyone who's grieving, holidays can be just plain hard. Let me be the first to say: I hear ya!

Over the weekend, I'll post again and share my thoughts and plans for this season. But right now, I'd love to hear what you're doing, where you're going, and how you're feeling.

P.S. If you don't feel comfortable posting a comment publicly, you can post under "anonymous" or you can e-mail me at marisa.bardach@gmail.com.

Photo courtesy of krisdecurtis, flickr.com

A little pip squeak with a big voice

2008-12-07T13:16:00.006-05:00

On Friday night, I heard a story about my mom that made me crack up.

I was hanging out with my mom's college roommate, Bonnie, and her husband Arnie. Bonnie met Sally at the University of Connecticut in 1964. Bonnie was a freshman and Sally was a senior, but they were placed in the same dorm room. At first, Sally was annoyed to be "stuck with a freshman." Soon, despite the age gap, they became best friends.

When Sally graduated and moved to New York City, she and Bonnie remained close. A few years later, Bonnie moved to the city, too. A new phase of adventures began for them.

Because my mom didn't meet my dad until she was 33, she had 12 years of single life in NYC. (Think Carrie Bradshaw, but with jet-black hair and set in the 70s). I didn't realize until Friday night that Bonnie and Arnie have all the juicy gossip (and funny stories) about those years.

"I just remembered a great story about your mom," Arnie began. "Since she was a teacher and had the summers off, she and her girlfriends used to rent a house in Vermont."

Already this was news to me. My mom had never mentioned summers in Vermont. Trust me -- I would have remembered!

"She invited us to come up to Vermont and stay with her for a weekend," Arnie continued. "We drove for hours through the woods. We were really in the middle of nowhere."

"It was beautiful," Bonnie added.

"When we got there, this group of guys answered the door," Arnie said. "They rented the house on the alternate weekends and said there would be no room for us."

"Your mom hadn't gotten there yet, so we hung around and waited for her," Bonnie said. "When she showed up, we told her what the guys said."

"Well!" Arnie said. "She marched into that house and said, 'This is my weekend to be here! You're going to leave and my friends are staying. Those are the rules. Get out!'"

Arnie and Bonnie burst out laughing.

"She was ballsy!" I exclaimed. In missing my mom's softer side, I'd forgotten how feisty she was. I imagined this little 5-foot pip squeak yelling at a group of guys and shook my head. Oh, Sally. "So what happened?"

"The guys packed up and left," Arnie said. He and Bonnie were still laughing at the memory.

Is there a story you've heard about your parents in their youth that made you crack up, or surprised you, or made you really proud? Share with me!

My favorite meal from Sally's kitchen

2008-12-03T20:55:00.006-05:00

When most children crave their mom's home-cooking, comfort food comes to mind: fresh tomato sauce, hearty meatloaf, chicken soup when you're sick.

Me? I long for leftover Lo Mein.

Chinese take-out was a weekly event in my house. Don't get the wrong idea: my parents did their fair share of cooking. But everyone needs a day off. Chinese food was my mom's favorite cuisine. Her second favorite cuisine? Reheated Chinese food. And she didn't always rely on the microwave. Sally would stand over the stove with her well-loved wok, stir-frying our leftover Veggie Lo Mein. "I'm doctoring it up!" she'd announce proudly. The results were delicious.

Tonight, in honor of Sally, I "doctored up" my leftover Pad Thai in my bright-red wok. Here's the recipe.

"Doctored Up" Pad Thai

Ingredients:
Leftover Pad Thai*
1 Tbsp toasted sesame oil
1 tsp Sriracha hot chili sauce
1 tsp crushed red pepper

Directions:
1. Heat sesame oil over medium-high heat for 2-3 minutes
2. Add leftover Pad Thai and toss until heat softens and separates the noodles and ingredients
3. Squirt a drop of Sriracha hot chili sauce (careful: it's hot!)
4. Sprinkle red pepper flakes

Tonight I even had leftovers of my leftovers. Looks like I'll have lunch tomorrow!

What's a favorite recipe that your mom makes or used to make?

Ghosts on the treadmill

2008-11-30T16:36:00.011-05:00

I went running yesterday. Like most Americans, I was trying to burn off too much turkey and pumpkin pie. I had another goal, too. I wanted to rid myself of all the stress and heartache that had come with Thanksgiving.

As soon as I got on the treadmill, I knew it wasn't going to be an easy workout. My legs felt like lead. My tummy sloshed. Even the little TV attached to the cardio machine was broken. But I knew I needed to work out. I knew it would help.

I started at a slow walk, nice and easy at 3.0. Even if you just walk, it's OK, I reassured myself. A few minutes later, I increased to 3.5. See? You can totally do this.

Five minutes later, I upped it to 4.2 and began to jog. I can't do this. Maybe I'll just call it quits and take a nice long shower. My calves burned. My body felt so weak. I just can't do this. It's too hard. It's too hard. I knew it wasn't just the running; it was life. Life just felt too hard and too lonely without her.

Finally, desperate, I began a sort of delirious prayer-mantra: Mom, give me strength. Mom, give me strength. Mom, give me strength.

I looked at the empty treadmill beside me. In my mind, I imagined her jogging easily alongside me, the same way we used to jog together at the gym. Her hair was swept up in a ponytail. She wore black swishy pants and an over-sized gray T-shirt. She wasn't even huffing and puffing. She looked great.

You can do this, Missy, she told me. Come on.

I increased to 5.0 and began to run.

She continued: When you spoke to Aunt Ruthy at Thanksgiving, that was me talking to you. I thought back to my conversation with my great aunt. We were on the computer, and I was showing her my blog. With weepy eyes, she told me: "Life is such a fragile thing. You never know what's going to happen." I thought she sounded sad until she said, "It's an adventure." At 89, she's one of the wisest women I know. And it did sound like advice my mom would give. (Left: Aunt Ruthy and me at the Thanksgiving dinner table.)

I upped the treadmill to 5.2. Then 5.5. And then 6.0. My breathing was loud and hard. Sweat ran into my eyes. People here must think I'm crazy.

My boyfriend, Mark, appeared on the treadmill beside me. "How are you doing?"

"I'm running really fast," I panted, then cursed myself for stating the obvious. But what was I going to say? I'm communicating with the dead?

"I see that!" he grinned. "I'm going for a swim now. See ya at 5." I watched him bound away in the mirror.

I increased to 6.2 and tried to conjure my mother again. I wanted to ask her something. When I felt her presence, I asked timidly, Mom, is it OK that I started Sally's Circle? Lately, I had begun to second-guess sharing such intimate feelings in such a public arena. Yes, she answered with absolute certainty. I sighed with relief. I knew I could stop running.

As I lowered my speed from heart-racing 6.2 down to a steady walk at 3.5, I heard her say over and over again: Share me. Share me. Share me. Share me. Share me.

Have you ever had a moment like this, where someone who has passed away seems to speak to you? Do you think it's really that person talking to you, or you just hearing what you want to hear?