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

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?

Well, no. Johnny's not here because he's dead. And now so is Ed McMahon. That's right, Ed McMahon kicked the bucket last night. :( That's okay. He was old and had a long and successful life. He will be missed very much. Especially by those who didn't receive their American Family Publishers checks.

Last week was one of the greatest of my professional career. Truly. The week was one long defining moment. One of those weeks where all the hard work, all of the training, all of the collective disappointments and successes collide to make magic. I’ve had weeks that were like last week, but none that was quite as uplifting; none that made me feel as good about myself, my colleagues…and, yes, even the world. The week was just that good.

And then in the midst of the celebrating on Thursday…the phone rang.

My parents were both raised Jewish, but as a result of a few life experiences, they pretty much bailed on the whole religion thing. So, for the first nine or so years of my life, we celebrated Christmas (like the majority of the people I knew in those days). My brother, however, upon discovering our Jewish roots, re-ignited an Old Testament interest in our household, and before long I found myself in Sunday School, Hebrew School and well on my way to a Bar Mitzvah.