My 17 year old dog passed away this past weekend. She died peacefully in her sleep, thankfully, and my family was spared the agonizing decision of whether or not to have her put to sleep. 17 is old for a dog, I know, but that doesn't make her death any less sad for me.

If you were a fan of the Corey duo (Haim and Feldman) in the 80's like I was, the death of Corey Haim is either totally expected or a huge surprise. Personally, with all the drug problems, I'm surprised he lasted this long, but it is sad to see him go. He leaves behind some classic movies, roles, and memories.

Riding the subway, holding the Boston newspaper, I couldn't believe what I was reading.

Four people were shot, one dead, and all that the newspaper's letters-to-the-editors complained of was that the murder was reported to be in the South End.

"Why is the Lenox St/Shawmut Ave intersection where the shooting took place continuously referred to as the 'South End'?"

"I do agree with you that the incident happened within the 'South End precinct's sector,' but that shouldn't result in the media reporting the crime as happening in the 'South End.'"

Amal was being treated at a mental health institution.
He was 16.
After his older brother was murdered, Amal became enraged.
He began to fight walls with his fists.
He broke glass windows and cut his hands.
He was suicidal.

And he was unable to talk of his brother’s death.

Amal's brother was walking home when he was confronted by two Plaza Park Boys. They thought he was Amal, but he wasn't. They murdered the wrong brother. His brother had just graduated from high school. He was days away from attending Georgia State University on a full scholarship.

I went to see my grandmother's grave.
Remembering the processional led me to her headstone.

The headstone is Salisbury pink.
On it is a picture of my grandmother.
She was in her early forties. It was before I knew her.
Written above her picture are the words, "A joy to the world" 1927-2009.
I thought about the white hat and dress she wore. I wondered if they were holding up.

Then I wondered if she knows that Uncle Darryl is back in jail.
And that Uncle Robert is using again.
So I told her.

It was a bald patch the size of a child's hand. On the top of my head.
Suddenly, three years ago, I had hair loss. One day hair was there, the next day it wasn't.

M.D. Web listed causes of hair loss.
I was sure the hair loss had to be because of my thyroid disease.
I scheduled an appointment with the endocrinologist.
At the doctor's office I showed her the bald spot.
"Is my hair falling out because of my thyroid?"
"No."
"Then what is wrong?"
"We'll schedule an appointment with dermatology for a biopsy."

I thought that once my grandmother passed away, so would I.
We would both be gone.
I would stand still while the earth rotates.

Last night I dreamed about my grandmother.

She stood in a courtroom, wearing the white hospital gown that she wore on her sickbed. Although still weak in body, her eyes were strong and powerful. On a bench sat my two sisters, my little brother, two cousins, and me. She turned toward us. She said, "Your honor, I’ll take them."

The choir sang words that echoed those that my grandmother often shared, "My body got tired. I got to find a resting place. Every day is going to be Sunday, no more tears."

I viewed my grandmother’s body from the back of the church. The bind that held our family together was undone and laid to rest in a casket. What did that mean for my family?

My grandmother was rushed to the hospital. Again. This time to the intensive care unit.