Emotional morning after a moody sad night. Walked into town. About an hour's journey on foot. Crossed the road at one point because I could see what I thought was a big dog in the yard ahead. Got closer and discovered it was was a grazing deer. Saw a butterfly near the centre line. Rescued it to a log near the shoulder. Crossed the bridge into town. Looked around. Found, incredibly, a necklace that said "Summer". I mean you expect to see ones that read "Jane" or "Cathy" but... why was that there when I looked? Bought it. Wandered through the faux Bavarian village. Clock stores and bookstores and Christmas ornament stores and jewelry stores and salt water taffy. Finally about time to eat. Bratwurst everywhere but what I really wanted was just a tuna sandwich and a beer. No chance.  Last place I looked, equally Germanic -called Gustavs for fucksake - had just that. Albacore tuna salad on rye, 22 oz locally brewed IPA on tap. Potato salad and a fresh pickle on the side. Perfect. How did that happen? Downloaded the Marshall Crenshaw song I heard the other day in the grocery store with Summer's dad that made me cry. Decided to go back across the street and get another necklace for Summer's mom. Walking there, as I approach, hear one of Summer's favourite songs, MGMT's "Time to Pretend" coming out of speakers nearby.  Meant to be. Get the second necklace and walk back to the festival site listening to the Crenshaw and the first disc of "OF LOVE & LOSS". Quick shower and into evening rehearsal. The cast working so hard and having fun. Our terrific director. Our devoted stage manager. The lovely festival staff. So grateful to be here. Know so very well that my girl, my love, my Summer was with me all day - helping me, showing me, encouraging me. Making sure I know she's keeping as close as she can, letting me know she just wants me to use the time I have left here well, just letting me know I'll be with her again very soon, just have to finish up my work here the way I'm supposed to and how she'd want. Thank you sweetheart. Love you forever.

Travels...

Heading West tomorrow. First to NoCal and then on to Seattle. Can't go into SFO anymore. Can't even fly Virgin. Gotta go JetBlue. Miss my girl too painfully much otherwise. The memories- waiting downstairs at the kiss and ride for her Blue Prius to pull around the corner, waving through the windshield. Running toward her, my bags in tow. Dropping them as she jumped out of the car, invariably dressed in dark, tight little yoga pants, a cute little tshirt (maybe her anchor one), her pretty long red hair up held in place by tiny clips or maybe just a pencil, no make up, big blue eyes filled with love and shy surprise, the guileless smile that could knock a man down, leaping into my arms and kissing and kissing and kissing me. And then asking if I would drive... Love you forever. 

Bagels...

I had a really bad late afternoon today. Just overwhelmed by grief and sobbing. Sometimes I think in a corner of my  heart, I truly believe somehow that Summer really will just magically reappear and this nightmare will be over, our life able to resume. When that little piece I hold quietly, secretly falls away, in those moments I truly cannot cope...

I got undressed and turned off the lights and got into bed at 6pm, weeping uncontrollably. I tried to get somebody on the phone. But no one answered. I finally cried myself to sleep. It was still daylight. I woke up an hour later, put on some clothes and went for a walk. Went for beer, if you want to know the truth. I held out all day and what good did it do me, ya know? I'd already gotten completely hysterical stone cold sober. How much worse could it get? Famous last words, I know. 

I've been drinking this IPA made in Petaluma. Like everything- like rooting for the Giants, like listening to Bay Area NPR, like buying more UC Davis tshirts, like shopping for a Blue Prius- every thought is trying to reclaim my lost life with Summer. Anyway, this beer, Lagunitas it's called- they're out of it at D'Agostino's. I try Gristedes. No go. Finally, I locate some at the Food Emporium. It's warm but I can stick it the freezer for an hour. Maybe I'll manage to get some writing done while I'm waiting, right? 

I step up to the cashier but this very excited lady steps in front of me and asks the girl behind the register, "Where's the bagel place?" 

The girl looks up, baffled. Um... "

"You know. Where you get the bagels."

 The girl winds up, "Uh, upstairs, I think." 

We're in the basement. You have to take an escalator down a flight from 8th Ave to enter the Food Emporium. Very clever. Very cheeky. "Upstairs".

The girl starts ringing me up. The lady isn't going anywhere. 

"What place are you looking for?," I ask. Lots of places have bagels". 

The lady is happy to continue.

"Oh, you know. For the morning. " 

"For breakfast?"

"Yes"

"Well, there's a pretty good diner at 52nd & 8th. They got decent bagels. And really any deli..."

"52nd?"

"Yeah"

"Is it called the Starshine? Or Starlight? Star-something?”

"Yeah, I think, that's right"

A line is beginning to form behind me. I swipe my card and wait to sign. 

"I was really hoping for a bakery, you know? Where they make them fresh".

"Well, there was this great place on the Upper West Side, called H & H. They were the best but they closed last year."

"Oh, NO!", she says dejectedly.

She's starting to feel the eyes of the queue filing up behind her. I scrawl my ridiculous, indecipherable signature with the little black plastic pen on the touchscreen. 

"I know. They were there for like 50 years. But hey, any deli is gonna have a decent bagel. And definitely that diner on 52nd in the morning."

"Okay," she says cheering slightly.

"And, hey, you're in New York. You gotta shop around, try a buncha places."

"Thank you", she says smiling and heading toward the escalator. 

She's going upstairs. That's where the bagels are, you know… 

I grab my plastic bag, turning to the people staring at me. 

"Tourist Board", I say. 

I walk up the escalator. The excited lady is still there near the door. I stop her. 

"Hey," I say, "There is actually a really great bakery at 44th & 9th."

"Really?"

"I'm not sure if they do bagels. But croissants, cupcakes, sandwiches , muffins, everything fresh. It's called Amy's Bread"

"44th?"

"Yeah. And like I said, it's New York. Ya gotta... The Carnegie Delicatessen..."

"Of COURSE!", she says beaming, walking away.

"On 5th...", I call after her carrying home my warm Petaluma beer. 

And you cannot tell me that stopping and thinking and helping this woman who is probably in her mid-fifties and maybe on her own and on her way back to her hotel room at the Hilton Garden across the street and just so excited to be in New York and to have a bagel in the morning, you cannot tell me that that did not just happen and that Summer wasn't there for every second of it, because I fucking well feel her. And that little piece in my heart that keeps me safe, that keeps me from completely dissolving into despair, that thing that tells me that she is not gone is somehow right. Because I can feel her in that moment and know I will be with her again. I just have to get through this. And if I do it right and listen closely she will tell me how. Love you, little sweetheart. Love you forever.

Lost...

Weeping for hours tonight and just saying, "I need you, I need my sweetheart, I need to talk to my little sweetie, please, please..." Life is nothing without you. I miss you and only want to die, myself. Please come for me, Summer. My pretty girl. My True Love. My Best Best Friend. My everything. Love you forever...

Missing...

A friend told me today that in French, you don’t really say “I miss you.” You say “tu me manques,” which is closer to “you are missing from me" Perfect. “You are missing from me.” You are a part of me, you are essential to my being. You are like a limb, or an organ, or blood. I cannot function without you. Yes. Exactly right. You are missing from me, my little sweetheart. Love you forever.

Too Scared to Live in a World Without Her...

When Summer was 14 she played Dorothy in a famous production of "The Wizard of Oz" at Chico Light Opera. Local Wunderkind Coy Middlebrook directed it and he was essentially a member of the Serafin family from that day on. There are some stills from that production but sadly, no recordings, video or audio. Summer always promised she would sing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" for me one day. It's another one of those things that we just never got to have. Although one day we went for an epically long walk through Golden Gate park, stopping at the windmill and then on to dinner at a beautiful place overlooking the ocean. There was a little trio playing and at one point they had an instrumental go at the song. Sitting across from Summer, I took her hand and my eyes filled with tears... I've been thinking all day of something from Summer's memorial. Coy organized and emceed it. And he and the two men who had played the Scarecrow and The Cowardly Lion wrote a short scene which they performed. It found them breaking the news to each other, as it finally reached Oz, that Dorothy had died. The Lion says, at one point that he's "too scared to live in a world without Dorothy." That is exactly as I've felt all day. Not just sick with grief, not just trembling with loss, but scared. Too scared to live in a world without Summer. I guess I'll just have a quiet night and try to sleep and maybe tomorrow will be better. Probably not but what else can I do, sweetheart, right? Until that day. Until that day. 

I have awoken a thousand mornings weeping, yanked out of a dream where we were once again together, only to find another day in this lonely world without you.