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Day 145: Mourn.


Walking to the métro this morning with Aurélien, we noticed it was the first chilly and gloomy day where I had overestimated the weight and warmth of my cardigan. Nestled with his arms around me, we ferociously charged down Rue de Rivoli to catch the line 1 at St. Paul heading down to George V. Pounding our feet on the pavement in a rush to get to the coziness of subway exhaust, Aurélien turned and looked at me with his baby blues, "Today feels like it's going to be a bad day." he announced and squeezed my shoulder a little tighter to emphasize that he is here to comfort me. I wiggled myself out of his embrace as well as his Jean-Luc Goddard Nouvelle Vague scene that he was dramatically playing in his head. 

"Stop being so French. Today is going to be just fine. It's just chilly!" I said with a saccharine smile and proud that my American optimism kicked his sour French attitude's boney ass. 

While we were waiting at the long traffic light before crossing Rivoli to St. Paul, the sky opened up and started pouring ice cold rain on us. Huddled together on the corner drenched, with our heads down to avoid our faces from getting wet, my wool sweater starting smell like a wet rat and my ballet flats feeling like wet squishy sponges, Aurélien turned and looked at me again, "As I said, today feels like it's going to be a bad day." This time saying it self righteously and also a little louder as he was competing with the sound of the heavy rain that was currently blasting us. Really? He actually wanted to win that debate? I generally aim for good days, but again, I'm American, we're obsessed with being happy. A concept that deeply perplexes the French.

While my day on a whole went fine with nothing too challenging thrown my way, the news about Steve Jobs floored me, bringing back old memories to the surface. Suddenly all of the photos of Apple products and actual real apples on my facebook news feed made sense. I'm slow sometimes.

How sad. Truly. I recently took an interest in his daughter Lisa because she writes, has a blog as well as a fascinating story of being somewhat estranged from her father until she was a teenager where her and her mother were living on welfare. This was a story that I found myself googling several times this summer because I found it intriguing. Unfortunately, I hadn't been able to find too much, just some articles in Vogue and a few posts on her abandoned blog.

With this news freshly broken, I can't help but think of my best friend's uncle who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer last year. It pains me to know that he is reading about the passing of Steve and is undoubtedly thinking about his own fate. Having lost my father to throat cancer at 55, my aunt to bone cancer at 53 and my other aunt to a fatal hit and run at 27, I'm certainly no stranger to losing immediate family. I can only imagine how his daughter Lisa and his three other children are feeling. There is no pain like the loss of a parent, the only worse pain - per my grandmother who has lived through it twice- is the loss of a child.


It reminds me of a little jewelry box that my father gave to me on my 23rd birthday when he knew that he was dying and inside was a photo taped on the top half of him waving goodbye to me. My heart is with Laurene Powell, her children and Lisa Jobs today.

Aurélien was right, today was certainly not a good day. For some more than others.

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