This Is The Reality I Want, When Anxiety And Depression Set In!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                               Though "The Wizard Of Oz" is my favorite movie, and escaping to a Technicolor land in a flying house would not be so bad, as would a plunge down a rabbit hole to Wonderland, the epitome of escape for me has always been the flight of the Darling children out that nursery window, over the rooftops of London, past Big Ben, and on to Neverland.

                                 All this is by way of explaining that I have not been on here, because of anxiety and depression.  For those who suffer from such, some is due to irrationalities that individually trigger one.  One, of mine, for example, is ending up in the street, like Fantine.

                                 But this week the real thing set in, and it is devastating.  You may recall, several days back, my mentioning the passing of Mr. Mayer, whom I have to write a blog tribute to, on here.  Well, that will take even longer.  Because, several nights ago, David stirred from bed, to check his email, having a premonition of something bad.  He turned out to be right.   He learned, as I did that morning, that, on October 10, five days after Mr. Mayer, Gerry, the husband of my former supervisor, Kris, and an important part of the Mermaid Parade Group at Coney Island, passed on.  He had been treated for mouth cancer of some form, and had gone through an aggressive regimen, requiring twelve weeks of waiting to see, if the treatment would work.

                                The point is moot, now, because, as I understand it, being weak and his system compromised, pneumonia snuck in, and, had his system been right, it might not have been fatal.  But in his case, it was.

                                  He was, I am guessing, around 68.

                                  Two people we both knew, whom I knew longer.  Wednesday, I was in such a state.  I could not read, write, think, I literally just sat, and did nothing.  I prayed, I thought about all the times at Coney Island we had, the Christmas parties we had gone to, and I prayed for their mercy.
As well as feeling the fabric of my life being torn asunder.  David was upset, too.  This is the real thing, darlings, and there is nothing worse.

                                    Fortunately, I had a therapy appointment yesterday, which gave me the push to go into the city, and, while on the subway, begin the new Jennifer Egan, which is simply fabulous.

                                     And now I am writing.  I will continue on.

                                     But two voids exist.  And Coney Island will never be the same.