My friend, Arpana Jinaga.

I've been quiet and introspective lately. Not much in the mood for blogging but I return to it because I miss it and it is therapeutic. I've been wanting to write for some time about Arpana and today seems the best time. It is the one year anniversary of her death which remains unsolved.

My partner works at a college health care center. Arpana was graduate student who worked part-time as a support IT person. Arpana completed her studies mid-semester and was losing her housing. This was Fall 2007.

We hired Arpana to fix our computer. She cleaned it up and it worked much better. She mentioned she was losing her housing. My partner thought highly of her. After she left, my partner and I discussed letting her move in temporarily. My partner and I are prone to attract and to take in strays. Although we were in the process of moving and realized this meant having a house guest during a stressful time, we agreed that since it was for a short time and because Arpana was a nice kid in a foreign country about to be homeless, we would offer to let her stay with us. We both have benefited from the kindness of strangers and would want someone to assist our kids if in need.

So, on October 31, 2007, Halloween, Arpana moved in with us at our old house. She came trick or treating with us and was amazed and dazzled by all the festivities. She kept shooting pictures on her cell phone. When we came home, our kids shared their candy with her. We had pizza and hung out. She was nervous but polite. She went down to our spare room in the basement and went to bed and to chat with friends.

Arpana was pretty scarce that first week, keeping to herself and retiring early to the basement. We moved the following weekend to our new house. Arpana helped us immensely. She set about organizing the living room furniture and cleaning up. She was very thorough. That night, she shared a meal with us, played with our 3 cats and fell absolutely in love with our gerbils. She played with the kids and read them a bedtime story.

Over the next few weeks, I got to learn a lot about Arpana. She was open to many experiences and talked about how much she loved being in the United States. She loved the openness of Americans. She loved the variety of people she met and the many ethnic restaurants. She was very fond of Thai food and very critical of Indian food. Nothing compared to her mom's and no one could mix a curry as well was her mom.

Arpana was a vegetarian. She was pleased we are too. She thought our regular meals very bland and very boring and very lacking in spice. She began to introduce us to spices by putting hot sauce on everything including her salad which she declared she never ate in India.

She showed me how to make rice (which I had previously always over cooked). She showed me how to mix spices and she cooked tasty food for us. She insisted it was not spicy but the kids complained about the level of spiciness. My partner and I liked her food despite the kids and viewed it as the rare treat it was: an inside look at an Indian kitchen. Arpana insisted however that she was not a good cook and had never been interested in cooking despite her mother's livelong admonishments that a good Indian wife needed to know how to cook. Arpana revealed that she did not learn how to cook until just before she left for the US. Her mother reasoned that there would be no one to cook for her in the US and Arpana therefore had to learn to cook.

Arpana loved to watch "House". She watched in the living room with us all, maintaining it was the funniest thing on TV. So we put up with her show and she learned to enjoy "ER", "Grey's Anatomy" and "Desperate Housewives." We could hear her on other nights watching Indian films in Hindi and other tongues. She seemed to know a bunch of other languages. She showed us the silliest parts of the Indian movies which all seemed pretty much the same. She knew the subtleties but could not rightfully explain their nuances to us.

My partner worked a lot then. More than she does now. On those lonesome evenings, Arpana and I would talk about many things. India, literature, sports, yoga, philosophy and love. She longed for a happy, exciting life. She missed her family. She would help her sister the way her parents helped her. She loved our pets. She had never had any. The cats sat on her lap. She could watch the gerbils for a half hour pondering what they thought.

Arpana liked watching and babysitting our kids. She was aghast by the material abundance the kids had. Arpana explained she never suffered any want but she had a limited number of toys and things. That's just how it was. In India, even if you could afford to give your kids everything, you did not lest the kids be spoiled. She had a point. But she liked spoiling the kids too. She gave them clothes and material and trinkets. She loved to watch the Disney movies with them. She loved the magic of the cartoons.

Arpana celebrated Thanksgiving with us at our house. All our extended family loved her. She helped set the table. She impressed my son with the fancy way she folded napkins to look like boats. She said she was thankful she found friends and so pleased to have been an ordinary, everyday part of an American family. She felt as thrilled as I had as seeing her cook a traditional Indian meal. She said she was honored. So were we.

Her last night in her house we took her out to an Indian fusion restaurant we liked. It was there that my son made the connection that Arpana was Indian and Indians were from India. He thought this was so cool. Apana and the restauranteur were amused. (See Indians are from India)

Apana moved out in early December in order to take a job in California. We called her from time to time. She called in early Spring 2009 and she told us she was moving to Seattle for a job and was looking forward to her adventure. We spoke to her a few weekes later and she loved the job. She had her own apartment. We called her in the summer and she had friends. We called her late summer and she had a motorcylce. We called her in early fall and she wanted to go to India but might have to settle for NJ. Could she stay with us if she came for the winter break? Of course. We'll call you in a few weeks. That was late October 2008.

We did not hear from her but that was fine. She was a busy young adult. We sent out Christmas cards in early December. On the Monday before Christmas, I got a call at work, my partner was crying horribly, gasping on the other end. "The kids are ok," my partner said. "Arpana. Arpana is dead. Murdered." Time froze. Froze. I willed myself to focus. Arpana's boss recognized our Christmas card because last year's card was among the things he found when sorted through her stuff after her death. He knew we meant something to her so he called. We'd written our phone number on the card thinking perhaps she lost our number.

Arpana's boss told my partner she had been murdered on November 1. I was numb. My partner was a mess. We kept her loss to ourselves for the holiday. After that, we told the kids she died but did not say how. Our sensitive son guessed her death was not normal. He wanted to know if she was shot and we told him no.

One day a few months later, I was cleaning the downstairs bathroom, the one where Arpana showered and washed her beautiful, glossy black hair when I lost it. I curled into a ball. And I sobbed. Like my heart had been ripped out. It had. I said I was sorry. I knew not for what except the loss, at my loss, at her loss, the world's loss.

I called the Redmond police offering anything I could. I contacted friends and then retreated. I called the police again and again. Yet nothing. I search the internet. I look for a creep. I know not who. I know not why.

Today, I went to my Unitarian congregation for a celebration of the Day of the Dead bringing a picture of Arpana and my recently dead cat who made her laugh as he threw himself into a glass door and as he swatted at grass stems. Together, my friend and my cat were on the offenda, an alter to acknowledge and mourn the recent and long ago dead. I wanted to cry but could not. I wanted to celebrate her life and how much Arpana gave us. Me.

Whatever happens, every November 1, she will be honored and remembered by me on this the traditional Day of All Saints. She would laugh but would understand. I love her and I miss her and I mourn her. I hope where she is, she knows she was loved.

Seasonal change

Winter is in the chilly air here in New Jersey. It's dark when we wake up. It's late afternoon when we come home. We need jackets. But not coats, yet. We wear long sleeves and long pants. And socks and closed toe shoes.

The trees are heavy with their green bursting to explode into reds, oranges and yellows. Halloween decorations abound. Kids play soccer on Sunday afternoons in failing sunlight and practice soccer under bright football-field lights on school nights. Candy is on sale!

My Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) is held in abeyance by Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors (SSRIs) (so many acronyms in too little time?) prescribed for my general (major) depression. It could be debated, but sadness for the upcoming winter should not start in August. November and in a pinch, even October, sadness is more acceptable.

Still, I continue the therapist search. I have initial, getting-to-know-you-it's-worse-than-a-first-date sessions scheduled. I am coping. Plugging along.

I enjoy my life. I continue on in the now. Still, it's hard. But on I go.

Melancholia, therapy and changes

I've been in a melancholy state lately. Frustrated with my son's ADHD. Suffering from an internal stagnation stymieing any soulful progress. My partner is in therapy. Our son is in therapy. We took our daughter to therapy to make sure she was not neglected in all the slavish devotion to our son and his ADHD. (She pronounces ADHD as ah-had.) I need to be in therapy.

We took our daughter to my partner and our son's therapist because I was concerned that unless we acknowledged her issues, we would eventually have a resentful surly, angry 15 year old. We may still have a hostile teenager but it hopefully be for normal adolescent stuff and not because she despises her brother and us for the amount of time he has consumed.

My partner returned to therapy for many reasons. Our son is in therapy for ADHD and other issues.

Me: I am trying to cope. There are many dormant things percolating herein. I want to flee but I am a home girl. I like having a home. I like being home. I like being at home. At ease and restful. Rested. In a respite. I must share space with my family. I willingly share space with my family. I want to be at ease but I am on guard. I fear what I project what our son could be. A thug. And, I am resentful. I need to address this. I fear a major change.

In myself. (But, most change in my life has been for the best.) I am apprehensive. Still, the stagnation has shifted subtly, softly.

I am ready for change.

Vacations end and changes begin

Another vacation: family camp in the Catskills. With friends we wish we had not turned on to it. They and their kids are a drag. It's all about what their 7 year old wants. She hijacks her family on her agenda. Plus sides: my wife and kids had fun; 7 year olds are more fun than 6 year olds; I like making bad friendship bracelets; I like horse riding but prefer that the stirrups are not longer than my legs; I like the other campers; the yoga here is awesome. I am glad we're home.

Summer vacation is gone. Kids start school on Monday. It rained most of the summer. Aside from 2 weeks in August, it did not get hot. Not too many pool days. Lots of time off. New weight loss initiative on Monday. Ready for a change of pace, attitude, routine. Not ready for fall but ready for the perennial renewal it heralds.

So, that's where it lies. Life ever turns, and change, for me, is often hard but largely good. I embrace it. Here I go.

Must-tell in a future post

My family and I have just returned from the Walt Disney Resort in Florida. Oh my, there is much to say. I must collect my thoughts and observations. Then, I will share.