Team Shredder

Sitting in my uncle and brother's house, my parent's old house, my childhood house, my homebase in Philly that has everything but mom and dad, who are gone from this world. The house is still here and they are still gone. But they're ok and I don't feel too haunted tonight, not chopped by friend, axe of grief. I don't look at the doorway and see my mom, I don't hear my dad's cough from the other room. Tonight I didn't go into the kitchen alone and see mom's empty chair and feel the axe chop a burning cold grand canyon into me or my torso. Is that how it happens eventually in time? Can you get used to anything after ten years. But I did see them standing there fraily in Chinatown, waving goodbye to my bus window while mom's shoulders shook from crying. Today when my bus pulled in I saw it again and I hate that I left them and made her cry. I cannot undo it ever. But now I have the night breeze that comes in and rattles the old window, my old window actually. John's window now. Better that than a stranger's window, I couldn't take that yet. Not that with watching mom watch me leave. Maybe now in the night is the time when I get the sadness again. I can remember my friends though, my darling wife who makes me so proud and tremendous friends who I've been with these last days. My beloved uncles and aunt and brother. I loved New York this time. We had the sweetest days, one after the other, they just kept happening. My friends are so good, I can hardly believe my luck. And now these 3 new, angel-like figures that appeared before me from out of the blogs. How can it be possible?