A cousin had a tragedy this past week. I would modify the word "tragedy" with words like "huge" or "devastating" or even "tragic," but no words could ever do it justice. There aren't enough words.
Children should not die.
No parent should bury their child.
It goes against everything.
They held an "informal shiva" so (after looking up shiva on wikipedia to make sure I knew what to do) I worked all day Thursday, bought the ingredients and made my #1 all time favorite soup late that night.
Somehow it only made this much.
Never has 32 ounces seemed so utterly pathetic.
I was so disgusted.
I wanted to bring a VAT of soup.
I wanted to bring a gigantic iron cauldron.
I wanted to pull up in one of these
and stick a hose through the kitchen window, flip on the pump, and flood the house with love-in-soup-form till it filled the entire place and they couldn't feel the awful absence of their little girl.
Even if I could, it wouldn't be enough.
Nothing is enough.
I pray that the gesture itself is enough - to convey my condolence, which is a word we have that only seems right in times like this, but still is not ever, ever, no, it is not anywhere close to enough.