And the most important part of the week (from a letter to my friend Beth)

I lost a treasured former student to an auto wreck last week. She was blossoming, doing so well. She would be 20 on the 5th. I went to her funeral, packed with beautiful studded leather multi-pierced smelling of hand-rolled tobacco angels who loved her and sang raucous irish/punk goodbyes. I don't cry at funerals. I suck at death. Everything is numb and sucked inside of me in mid-inhale, afraid I will break something. But their singing broke me free. Sad, Sad and raucous and beautiful and tragic...