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I was looking at Payson's FB Maui photos where he is vacationing with his family and I spotted these old photos of Brendan. I'd only heard about Brendan's broken elbow years ago and his indifference to the pain.

My heart hurts to see him here so alive with just a broken elbow and the memories of his cool tattoos. I've never been a big tattoo fan but Brendan's tattoos were perfect to me.

I was reading a book by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross last night: "Life Lessons: Two Experts on Death & Dying Teach Us About the Mysteries of Life & Living". She suggested that you request your loved one to visit you in your dreams. So last night I lit a candle on the Chinese Ancestral Altar I set up in Brendan's memory. This time I asked him to visit me in my dreams. When I woke up this morning I was trying to remember if I had any dreams of Brendan, but I couldn't remember any. 

I've been reminiscing about him all day. Of course I think about him every day anyway but more so today. I came across these pics. I keep thinking with time it won't hurt so bad, but I had heart gripping pain when I saw these photos. I was on my break at work and couldn't hold back the tears.

 My thoughts: ....how can we live on this earth and take each other so for granted? We're all miracles and gifts aren't we? Think what you will about death and what happens after death, it doesn't matter to me. I know Brendan lives on. It only gets clearer to me that he continues to exist. He may not have turned up in my dream as I requested, but he turned up here didn't he?






Ghost Pipe (Monotropa uniflora)







“Calvin? Calvin, sweetheart?”

In the darkness Calvin heard the sound of Susie, his wife of fifty-three years. Calvin struggled to open his eyes. God, he was so tired and it took so much strength. Slowly, light replaced the darkness, and soon vision followed. At the foot of his bed stood his wife. Calvin wet his dry lips and spoke hoarsely, “Did… did you…. find him?”

“Yes dear,” Susie said smiling sadly, “He was in the attic. “

Susie reached into her big purse and brought out a soft, old, orange tiger doll. Calvin could not help but laugh. It had been so long. Too long.

“l washed him for you,” Susie said, her voice cracking a little as she laid the stuffed tiger next to her husband.
“Thank you, Susie.” Calvin said. A few moments passed as Calvin just laid on his hospital bed, his head turned to the side, staring at the old toy with nostalgia.
“Dear,” Calvin said finally. “Would you mind leaving me alone with Hobbes for a while? I would like to catch up with him.”


“All right,” Susie said. “I’ll get something to eat in the cafeteria. I’ll be back soon.” Susie kissed her husband on the forehead and turned to leave. With sudden but gentle strength Calvin stopped her. Lovingly he pulled his wife in and gave her a passionate kiss on the lips. “l love you,” he said.
“And I love you,” said Susie. Susie turned and left. Calvin saw tears streaming from her face as she went out the door.


Calvin then turned to face his oldest and dearest friend. “Hello Hobbes. It’s been a long time hasn't it old pal?”

Hobbes was no longer a stuffed doll but the big furry old tiger Calvin had always remembered. “It sure has, Calvin.” said Hobbes. “You… haven’t changed a bit.” Calvin smiled.

“You've changed a lot.” Hobbes said sadly.

Calvin laughed, “Really? I haven’t noticed at all.”

There was a long pause. The sound of a clock ticking away the seconds rang throughout the sterile hospital room.

“So… you married Susie Derkins.” Hobbes said, finally smiling. “l knew you always liked her.”

“Shut up!” Calvin said, his smile bigger than ever.

“Tell me everything I missed. I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to!” Hobbes said, excited.

And so Calvin told him everything. He told him about how he and Susie fell in love in high school and had married after graduating from college, about his three kids and four grand-kids, how he turned Spaceman Spiff into one of the most popular sci-fi novels of the decade, and so on. After he told Hobbes all this there was another pregnant pause. “You know… I visited you in the attic a bunch of times.” Calvin said.

“l know.”

“But I couldn’t see you. All I saw was a stuffed animal.” Calvin’s voice was breaking and tears of regret started welling up in his eyes.

“You grew up old buddy.” said Hobbes.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry I broke my promise! I promised I wouldn’t grow up and that we’d be together forever!!” Calvin broke down and sobbed, hugging his best friend.

Hobbes stroked Calvin’s hair, or what little was left of it. “But you didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“We were always together…. In our dreams.”

“We were?”

“We were.”

“Hobbes?”

“Yeah, old buddy?”

“I’m so glad I got to see you like this… one last time…”

“Me too, Calvin. Me too.”

“Sweetheart?” Susie voice came from outside the door.

“Yes dear?” Calvin replied.

“Can I come in?” Susie asked.

“Just a minute.” Calvin turned to face Hobbes one last time.

“Goodbye Hobbes. Thanks… for everything…”

‘No, thank you Calvin.” Hobbes said.

Calvin turned back to the door and said, “You can come in now.”

Susie came in and said, “Look who’s come to visit you.”

Calvin’s children and grandchildren followed Susie into the room. The youngest grandchild ran past the rest of them and hugged Calvin in a hard, excited hug. “Grandpa!!” screamed the child in delight.

“Francis!” cried Calvin’s daughter, “Be gentle with your grandfather.”

Calvin’s daughter turned to her dad. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Francis never seems to behave these days. He just runs around making a mess and coming up with strange stories.”

Calvin laughed and said, “Well now! That sound just like me when I was his age.”

Calvin and his family chatted some more until a nurse said, “Sorry, but visiting hours are almost up.”

Calvin’s beloved family said good bye and promised to visit tomorrow. As they turned to leave Calvin said, “Francis. Come here for a second.”

Francis came over to his grandfather’s side, “What is it Gramps?”

Calvin reached over to the stuffed tiger on his bedside and held him out shakily to his grandson, who looked exactly as he did so many years ago.

“This is Hobbes. He was my best friend when I was your age. I want you to have him.”

‘He’s just a stuffed tiger.” Francis said, eyebrows raised.

Calvin laughed, “Well, let me tell you a secret.”

Francis leaned closer to Calvin. Calvin whispered, “If you catch him in a tiger trap using a tuna sandwich as bait he will turn into a real tiger.”

Francis gasped in delighted awe. Calvin continued, “Not only that he will be your best friend forever.”

“Wow! Thanks grandpa!” Francis said, hugging his grandpa tightly again.

“Francis! We need to go now!” Calvin’s daughter called.

“Okay!” Francis shouted back.

“Take good care of him.” Calvin said.

“l will.” Francis said before running off after the rest of the family.

Calvin laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. The time to go was close. He could feel it in his soul. Calvin tried to remember a quote he read in a book once. It said something about death being the next great adventure or something like that. His eyelids grew heavy and his breathing slowed. As he went deeper into his final sleep he heard Hobbes, as if he was right next to him at his bedside. “I’ll take care of him, Calvin…”

Calvin took his first step toward one more adventure and breathed his last with a grin on his face.

Source: This guy just changed the way we see Calvin and Hobbes

The Lesson Of Impermanence



From the Article: The Lesson of Impermanence

By Sunita Puri, M.D.




The Bhagavad Gita, which my father had read to me as a child, emphasizes that change is the law of the universe. The Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hanh reminds us that “impermanence does not necessarily lead to suffering. What makes us suffer is wanting things to be permanent when they are not.” Yet it was the sweeping away of a sand painting that helped me truly understand that change and impermanence are not just spiritual tenets but laws of nature — ones that I’d struggled against and had been taught to ignore throughout much of my medical training.

Just as I’d expected that the gorgeous mandala had been created in order to be preserved, I had also expected that my patient in her 30s should live to see her children graduate from college, that the marathon runner should have lived to run more races. I’d expected, partly as a result of my medical training, to change and control what wasn’t necessarily mine to change and control. How might I treat my dying patients differently if I remembered that everything worldly — a painstakingly crafted mandala, a sky ablaze with color, our fragile human lives — is also temporary and subject to change?

Accepting that life is finite wouldn’t prevent me from drawing upon science to diagnose and treat disease, to use every tool available in medicine to alleviate suffering. But I wondered if it would make it easier for me to endure the inevitability of change and loss that both my patients and I would experience. Perhaps it could bring me solace to remember that just as my patients’ lives are temporary, so is their suffering.
I wiped my eyes as I looked upon the remaining heap of swirled sand, itself a thing of great beauty. The monks scooped teaspoons of sand into plastic bags, handing one to each of us. Through the bag, the sand felt both tough and soft, the bright blues and pinks particularly visible when I held it up to the light.

When I returned to the hospital the next day, I thought of the mandala as I sat with a breathless man my own age dying from lung cancer, and an agitated grandmother in the final stages of dementia. I would feel compassion for both of them, but I didn’t leave work that day consumed with grief, withdrawn and disengaged. By accepting my patients’ circumstances, rather than fixating on their inherent tragedy, I could focus instead on changing what I could: easing breathlessness and agitation, explaining hospice services to their despondent families.

Come Home....





From the book: Friendship's Offering: A Christmas , New Year, and Birthday Present
Boston, Phillips & Sampson Publishers 1846

May 28th--success with Brendan's Tribute Bench



The finale took place today, May 28th! Success, success, success!!!!!!
It took us a little over 1 year since Brendan's death to get to this point of success with Brendan’s bench. When I think about what we needed to do in order to manage, create and present this past year I realize how much Love, patience and determination were behind it all.
We want to thank you all First and Foremost, who have donated money and time towards the bench through the Tribute Parties on the West Coast and the East Coast.


These are the stages we went through to gain approval to install this magnificent memorial bench at the Historic Derby Park, for our dearest Brendan Lai-wing Leung.

2018 Last Year at this time:
1.May 2018: Payson started work on B’s Skateboard Bench. He Donated all his labor, the only cost being for materials.
2.October 2018, Wendy finds proposal cowriter Kristof Tigey. (UCSC Stem Cell Biologist & also a skater)
3. Kristof and Wendy meet for the next 6 months to write the proposal around the strict guidelines of the City Parks. Then Creating the PowerPoint presentation.

2019
4. March 8th :Finally Gaining an interview with the Superintendent & the Director of SC City Parks for approval to be placed on the SCCP Agenda. Both of these guys approved posting the bench on the agenda.
5. May 5th: Presentation to the Santa Cruz City Parks Commission. With a little bit of pushback at first but then the thumbs up from all commissioners. Under one Condition of SCC Parks Commission: receive the blessing of Sgt Derby’s Family.
7. After successfully receiving blessings from the Derby family we moved on to the Santa Cruz City Council Agenda for the final approval.
8. May 28th: The finish line!!!!…..B’s bench not only received approval, Payson was also praised by a council member during the meeting about his wonderful sculpture bench shaped like a skateboard!
9. Finale: Ribbon cutting ceremony approximately 3 months from today. TBA.....

Oh My Sweet Crushed Angel

Sufi Poem by Hafiz - My Sweet Crushed Angel




Credits to Daniel Ladinsky

You have not danced so badly, my dear, 
Trying to hold hands with the Beautiful One. 
You have waltzed with great style, My sweet, crushed angel, 
To have ever neared God's heart at all. 
Our Partner is notoriously difficult to follow, 
And even His best musicians are not always easy To hear. 
So what if the music has stopped for a while. 
So what If the price of admission to the Divine Is out of reach tonight. 
So what, my dear, If you do not have the ante to gamble for Real Love.
 The mind and the body are famous For holding the heart ransom, 
But Hafiz knows the Beloved's eternal habits. 
Have patience, For he will not be able to resist your longing For long. 
You have not danced so badly, my dear, 
Trying to kiss the Beautiful One. 
You have actually waltzed with tremendous style, 
O my sweet, O my sweet, crushed angel.

Nothing is sweeter than love, nothing more courageous, nothing higher............



"Love is a great thing, yea, a great and thorough good;
by itself it makes everything that is heavy, light; and it bears evenly all that is uneven. For it carries a burden which is no burden, and makes everything that is bitter, sweet and tasteful.

Nothing is sweeter than love, nothing more courageous, nothing higher, nothing wider, nothing more pleasant, nothing fuller nor better in heaven and earth

Love feels no burden, thinks nothing of trouble, attempts what is above its strength, pleads no excuse of impossibility; for it thinks all things lawful for itself and all things possible.

It is therefore able to undertake all things, and it completes many things, and warrants them to take effect, where he who does not love would faint and lie down."(excerpt from "A Love So Real")






The power of steadfastness in love

The power of love that is unchanging


Shakespeare, Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wand'ring bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me prov'd,

I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.

"Grief happens upon you"



"Grief… happens upon you, it’s bigger than you. There is a humility that you have to step into, where you surrender to being moved through the landscape of grief by grief itself. And it has its own time-frame, it has its own itinerary with you, it has its own power over you, and it will come when it comes. And when it comes, it’s a bow-down. It’s a carve-out. And it comes when it wants to, and it carves you out — in the middle of the night, in the middle of the day, in the middle of a meeting, in the middle of a meal. It arrives — it’s this tremendously forceful arrival and it cannot be resisted without you suffering more… The posture that you take is you hit your knees in absolute humility and you let it rock you until it is done with you. And it will be done with you, eventually. And when it is done, it will leave. But to stiffen, to resist, and to fight it is to hurt yourself."

- Elizabeth GIlbert

"A Garden Beyond Paradise" by Jalaluddin Rumi



A Garden Beyond Paradise

Jalaluddin Rumi


Everything you see has its roots
in the Unseen world.
The forms may change,
yet the essence remains the same.

Every wondrous sight will vanish,
Every sweet word will fade.
But do not be disheartened,
The Source they come from is eternal –
Growing, branching out,
giving new life and new joy.

Why do you weep? –
That Source is within you,
And this whole world
is springing up from it.

The Source is full,
Its waters are ever-flowing;
Do not grieve,
drink your fill!
Don’t think it will ever run dry –
This is the endless Ocean!

From the moment you came into this world
A ladder was placed in front of you
that you might escape.
From earth you became plant,
From plant you became animal.
Afterwards you became a human being,
Endowed with knowledge, intellect, and faith.

Behold the body, born of dust –
how perfect it has become!

Why should you fear its end?
When were you ever made less by dying?

When you pass beyond this human form,
No doubt you will become an angel
And soar through the heavens!

But don’t stop there.
Even heavenly bodies grow old.

Pass again from the heavenly realm
and plunge into the vast ocean of Consciousness.
Let the drop of water that is you
become a hundred mighty seas.

But do not think that the drop alone
Becomes the Ocean –
the Ocean, too, becomes the drop!

From the Article: We Need To Talk About Death



From the Guardian: April 2019 by Vanessa Billy

We need to talk about death: I was not prepared for how lonely grief would be

Six months ago, on 9 October 2018, it was a beautiful and unusually warm day in my native city of Paris. There, in the leafy surroundings of a palliative care center, my father took his last breath.

I was there with my husband. Our three year old, playing in the room next door, was blissfully unaware of what was happening. We had been in France for five weeks and had spent a lot of time with my father. I remember thinking “this is hard, but I am strong, I’ve got this”. I helped organize his funeral, stayed with my mum a few weeks after he passed away and then flew home to Sydney.

The first days back in Australia were painful. However, I can’t say that they were the most difficult to get through. I was functioning at a basic level, but functioning nevertheless. People offered condolences and gave me space. My work colleagues were incredibly supportive, providing back-up, patience and flexibility. It was really all I could ask for.


I knew grief was going to be painful. What I didn’t know was how lonely it would make me feel

After a couple of weeks though, life resumed. There were lunchboxes to pack, important deadlines to meet, meetings to attend and parties to go to. Everything happened as if all of a sudden, mourning time was up. Around me, everything was getting back to “normal”, except I wasn’t.

I still had uncontrollable fits of crying or sadness, only met by uncomfortable silence and awkward looks around me. I couldn’t concentrate, could not keep up with the pace of daily life. I was battling night terrors and panic attacks, yet every day I was expected to make rational decisions and plans. Many times, I felt like watching the train I was supposed to be on depart while I stayed stuck on the platform.

I did try to behave according to what I thought was expected of me, back to my “normal” self. I tried socialist but was too hurt to handle simple casual conversations. Increasingly, I started noticing people’s uneasiness if I mentioned how I felt or the memories of my father. I now know that their embarrassment came from not knowing how to react. But at the time it made me feel like I was responsible for not being able to snap back to my old self, for not being able to simply smile at the good memories.

On top of feeling heartbroken, I felt guilty and inadequate.

I became irritable – no, not irritable; I turned into a dragon. Commuting would trigger an explosion of angry tears every morning. Picking up my daughter’s clothes for the day turned into a stressful ordeal. Everything hurt. What people said, what they didn’t say. Three notes of music, a particular song, an administrative issue, practically anything would make me scared or angry or frustrated.

Sometimes even the rays of sunshine on a beautiful day would tear me apart. How could the day be so beautiful when I was in pieces inside? I had to do something, I didn’t want my daughter to come home to an angry mother every day. My father would really not have tolerated that.

After a couple of months, I started to see a grief counselor. This decision gave me my life back. The counselor simply provided me with the space I needed to grieve. We spoke about my dad, about his last days, I cried a lot. Simply talking about it with someone who told me all this was normal gave me immense relief. Within a few weeks, the wall I had built around my emotions collapsed, and the anger vanished. I still ache, I’m still sad, but I know I’m going to be OK. After a bad day a better one will come.

I knew grief was going to be painful. What I didn’t know was how lonely it would make me feel.

Our society does not cope with the idea of death. We fear it, and because we fear it, we ignore it. We refuse to consider death and illness as a part of life. We irrationally believe that it won’t happen to us or our loved ones. This makes us totally ill-equipped to deal with it when it does happen and to relate to people who have experienced it.

No one can entirely relate to the sadness and the ache caused by the loss of a loved one. They are lonely experiences. But the pain should not be compounded by society’s inability to deal with someone’s mourning. Most of us will acknowledge that mourning is a process which takes time. But few are actually ready to accept the responsibility that comes with it: people will not simply “get over it” with time, the experience of loss will change them deeply and forever.

As a society we have a responsibility to acknowledge the pain and help people adjust into society with their grief. We need to accept that it won’t always be that hard, yet it will never be the same.

Dark, awkward, depressing, sad, painful and uncomfortable; grief is all this. It is not something we want to think about. It is not something we wish on anyone. But it is something that will happen to all of us. We need to be here for each other when it does. And for this, we need to be prepared to deal with the bad and the ugly. We need to talk about death.

Your Death Seems Like Yesterday


"Grief is just impossible to summarize" by Beanie Feldstein



It is impossible. Grief is just impossible. It cannot be contained or summarized or enclosed. To describe the wound grief leaves if you have not experienced it is to come to it hazy and out of focus. But then there are those of us that unfortunately see grief in sharp, unrelenting focus.


About a year ago, Jordan Feldstein passed very suddenly and unexpectedly. He was a remarkably generous, intelligent, loving person. He was an incredible father, beloved by his boys. He was a deeply devoted son. He was a brilliant creative mind. And he was my biggest brother. He gave me so many things, including my name. In this past year, I have learned an immeasurable amount about the bandwidth of my own heart. The pain is so unbearable at times, so unremitting. Yet, in addition to the deluge of feelings leaking out of me at all times, I have found the process of grief (because it is and will always be a process, never finished, never concluded) to be just as resonant in my mind as it is in my heart.


It’s like all of a sudden, a pair of glasses were strapped to my face. And I can’t take them off. Ever. And these glasses make me see the world differently than I did before. The colors bleed together more vividly. But they are somehow more than they ever were before. More visceral. More vibrant. More present. Simultaneously more awe inspiring and more aching. Sometimes I can push the glasses to the end of my nose so I can peer over them to see the world the way I used to see. But I can only see over or around to my old perspective. I can never see it totally as it was ever again.


That is the aspect of grief I had no idea was coming. This monumental shift in perspective. Not only does the world become so much deeper and more painful, but sometimes unbelievably alive with joy and gratitude. And those two previously opposing concepts are now merged, now barely distinguishable. There is a whole new layer of my own personhood, but also a broadened humanity, that I could not see before. These glasses that were forced on me, grudgingly gave me the ability to see and appreciate a more intricate understanding of this vast world we live in.


And when you find others that have experienced this shift, others that wear the same prescription, there is an instant bond. There is this profound feeling of connection, not only because you both have experienced that pain, but because you also see the rest of life differently than everyone else. It is not only an acknowledgement of shared emotion, but a recognition of shared lived perspective.


Oh what I would give to never have had this shift happen. What I would give to take the grief glasses off of loved ones, coworkers, acquaintances, strangers. But I cannot. All I can do is try to positively acknowledge the aspects of the grief glasses that lead to feeling real love, happiness, and gratitude more presently and more fully. The part of the shift in perspective that leads you to be immensely thankful for what you do have.


A year ago, I found myself unwillingly in a new club. Well, new to me. A club that has existed for all eternity. A club that I wish did not exist. A club that every time people who are not in it don’t help me feel better, I feel grateful that the world hasn’t hurt them. It is a club full of suffering and questioning, but is also a community of people that have a truly broadened perspective on the human experience. And if you are also in the club, please know you are not alone, because I am also a begrudging member. And while I wish I could rip my grief glasses off my face and have it all be a dream, I try to recognize what the glasses have given me: that unique blend of humanity that is simultaneously the darkest dark and the brightest bright.


By Beanie Feldstein












My Heartbreak Continues AND dozens of words explain my love for Brendan

The heartbreak continues.....

March 31st a year ago we had a tribute party at the Poet & Patriot for Brendan.  It doesn't feel like a year to me.  I still miss Brendan so much.  Just as much as ever, the grief is still grief but transforms throughout the weeks and months into a different aspect of grief process.

 I was thinking about the pain in my heart today.  If I had to describe it to someone:  It's an extraordinary painful yearning to be with Brendan.  It's almost as if my heart is trying to reach out of my chest into the heavens and find him.

I continue to wake up during the night calling to him, "Brendan, Brendan....".  I know I won't hear his voice but I'm trying to summon him to me.  To see if I can still feel him.  His death still seems so unreal.

This was a difficult week for me. The feelings of Existential Despair are the worst kind of suffering! I'd rather be in physical pain than this kind of emotional pain.  Emotional pain affects me physically anyway and now I can understand how people can die from a broken heart.  Especially the elderly who are already fragile and lose a significant partner.

Oh how I judge my own grieving. I notice that my thoughts keep trying to justify my grieving. And my thoughts try different ways to squirm out of the feelings.

I took some of Brendan's ashes to the wharf and sprinkled a pinch where the sea lions like to swim and lounge. Saturday I explored Waddell Creek Beach and Davenport cliffs and also distributed some of his ashes. And then today at Hakone Gardens under the cherry blossom trees.

What do I miss about Brendan?  His sweetness. He had such a sweetness about him.  Even though he acted tough and cursed like a sailor, he was a gentle soul.  Brendan had a flavor.  A flavorful quality? I don't think I've ever described anyone like that before.  I'm not sure if everyone even has a flavorful quality.   Brendan was unique. He was a bunch of different spices and herbs.  These "spices" wouldn't normally go together. They would be described as diametrically opposed.

The best food, the greatest Chefs of 5 star restaurants, are expert at putting contrasting flavors together. And creating ecstasy through one's taste buds. And that's exactly what Brendan is: contrasting flavors.  Brendan's soul enhanced my soul.  And that's what I miss so much.  Everything is bland now. He was the accent of my life, the spice of my life.

I know his personality was immensely difficult.  Brendan was definitely One of the most difficult people I've ever loved.  I still imagine that he is sleeping and I am next to him caressing his hair and kissing him and I keep saying, "Everything is going to be alright, everything is going to be alright."  As if I need to comfort him so he won't worry.

I find myself wandering around in his home (in my mind/imagination). I wander in the cabin (which is what he called the bedroom), I wander around the TV area. I even wander in the bathroom. I go outside into his garden. And I'm there all over again. And the Whoo is there just sitting on the table staring at him. And Brendan is staring up at the TV screen. And I'm watching Brendan watching the TV. Sometimes I just liked to look at him without him knowing I was looking at him. I was endlessly intrigued by him.  The explanation I have for it seems wordless, beyond words.  I don't think I could string the right words together to explain it to anyone.

Okay, I've looked up the word 'captivate', 'captivated'.  Because I was captivated by Brendan. I love the synonyms for captivate. I know they all mean the same thing but I like to read the words and say the words, because even though they have the same definition, they sound different.  And every sound of each word explains individual feelings I have for Brendan in just a slightly different way.  Which is very satisfying.

Yes! Every word here describes my feelings and emotions for Brendan. I need to say it in a hundred different ways and that isn't even enough. Just now I had this crazy thought. I am in purgatory!!---because I can't be united with Brendan. I can only continuously think about him and talk to him out loud and yearn endlessly for him.. In this purgatory I am reading out of an enormous book of my thoughts and emotions, and I'm just reading these words out loud.  This book is full of words that describe my love for Brendan in slightly different ways. These words go on into eternity...there is no end to it. And the purgatory element of the experience is that I will never complete reciting the words from the massive book.

More words related to captivate:
attract, enchant
allure
beguile
bewitch
charm
dazzle
delight
draw
enamour
enrapture
entertain
enthrall
fascinate
gratify
hypnotize
infatuate
intrigue
lure
magnetize
mesmerize
please
seduce
spellbind
sweep off one's feet

Donor Network Ceremony: Anticipation







Brendan was an organ donor. 3 women were saved after they inherited Brendan's liver and kidneys. The woman who received the liver transplant only had 48 hours to live. The Donor Network told us he has already helped 50 people. His skin for burn patients, heart valves, lung tissue, corneas. 


But that thought of him being dissected for such a gift haunts me too. His skin was my skin, his eyes shared times with me watching British Cooking Shows. Many nights I would lay my head on his chest and listen to his heart beat. The same heart that donated valves to an individual in need. 

The Donor Network is holding a ceremony this Saturday in the Bay Area, California. I am attending. I am so afraid of the pain that this will bring me. I've cried so many tears this year and I know there will be a torrential downpour of tears this Saturday. I plan to wear sunglasses and bring lots of tissues. I'm anxious about the event. I'm happy that Brendan saved lives. But it doesn't reduce the pain of losing him, not even a little.