randomness on father's day

sunday morning was my uncle's mother's funeral. i didn't know her well enough to cry. "life is short. death is inevitable," the rabbi spoke to the funeral-goers, most of whom were over 60. my only memory of something spoken at the service for my brother was my grandmother, sitting behind me, masked by giant sunglasses, saying to herself, "too young." i do remember a feeling for the space and the religion and the words of the rabbi. i thought then it was an awe of god. it wasn't. it was an awe that some one could believe so deeply what he's never personally known. now i find it pitiful. "do not question what you cannot understand. do not seek what is hidden," he told us. besides holding back a laugh when i expected "don't go chasing waterfalls," i was just angry. 'it's my right to question why the hell i'm here and why the hell people leave,' i was thinking, when i was supposed to be my most respectful, 'is that the genius of religion?' my aunt's speech was the only thing that made me feel anything. i smiled because i knew silvia was loved, not because i was assured god would be taking care of her. by the end of the service, i decided i want to be cremated.

we were home at 11. we changed. we got the kids. by the time we were in the car it was like the funeral was another day. we're never up that early, anyway. it was the first time i'd ever driven to yankee stadium.

i have no school spirit. none. i went to one sports event all year and it was for julie. ask benjie. my "go friends" was severely lacking. for the yankees, i can yell. i think it's because i'm yelling for my city. and because my dad loves baseball so much. or it's the effect of peanuts, french fries, a jumbo hot dog, and a tub of chocolate ice cream. on the way home i thought for the first time about how next year i won't be living with my family.

i was ready to go out again at 10.