Rain is slapping up against the big, floor-to-ceiling windows in my office. I'm listening to Starfish by the Church, drinking coffee, and trying to shake off the residuals of a NyQuil haze.

I was initially turned on to the Church by the Cool Record Store Clerk at Springfield's Appletree Records. My fascination with the band was solidified by MTV's 120 minutes and the only punk/new waver (isn't it funny how conflicting ideologies could be combined in the '80s?) in my youth group - a guy by the name of Neal Posdamer who had the trademark hair in his face, combat boots and monochrome wardrobe.

Sarah's grandmother died at age 94 in her sleep with her family surrounding her. She was lucid to the end. It's the way we all want to go, I think.

Second night of seder was uneventful, though it went until one in the morning. When I went to bed, Sarah's parents, cousins and sisters were still making their way through Hallel.