The second part, which has a working title of Part 2.

I'll be honest. I have trouble processing selfish feelings. I'm very good at prioritizing things on the whole, but I'm never sure where to place my own reactions and needs versus those of others. Part of me (I know Freud named the parts, but I'm too lazy to look it up) wants to put the Me Me Me stuff right on top. The more measured part of me wants my needs prioritized on roughly the same basis as everyone else's.

So in this context, I don't know how much of my ranting here sounds like whining about my own discomfort when others are suffering different sorts of pain. But I will not be deterred. Throughout the whole run-up to my mom's final days, I was a mess. I was stressed beyond recognition.

I was fortunate to have close friends visiting and distracting me to some extent, and Ronnie was wonderful. But the reality of my own part in this kept barging in. In short, setting aside things directly related to my mom, I was facing 4 nights spent at my parents' house, where the absolute best I've ever felt was profoundly uncomfortable. In whatever way one might be uncomfortable- physically, socially, emotionally, I was all of it. And from there, I was leaving directly to go to a 2-day "retreat," as they say, in Aspen for what's referred to as the next generation of the Giving Pledge.

For those not up on their philanthropy news, the Giving Pledge was started by Bill Gates and Warren Buffett, I believe. The pledge is for really rich people to give away a large chunk of their wealth during their lifetime. Since my parents belong to this group and we have a family foundation, it sounded interesting to attend back when my sister suggested it to me (she was going as well) a couple of months ago. It would have felt strange under any circumstances, but at this particular time it felt especially odd.

So in the midst of this huge upheaval in my family's life, I was going to be away from home for a week, doing a lot of something (enforced socializing) that I despise. So there it was, in all its glory. The only thing I could say good about it was that somewhere in the back of my mind I know that the things I dread are never quite as bad as what I'm dreading.

And that's the way it was. The stuff at my father's house was long and felt even longer than that. But the time gradually passed and it wasn't a nightmare. And I've had times in my life when I haven't slept well. This was just another one of those. And then it was time to leave.

As I may have noted, I was doing the Giving Pledge thing with my daughter and my sister and her daughter. But because we made arrangements when I thought I'd be leaving from Philadelphia, they were all flying out of LaGuardia Airport and I was leaving out of Newark. That worked fine logistically, since it was on the way and Ronnie was then able to just drive home, and I would be on the same connecting flight to Aspen as the others. But the result was me dumped at Newark Airport at 9:30 in the morning by myself after all of that.

I'm not sure I've ever felt less within myself. I had a lot of time before my flights, so I just walked around and finally decided that, even though I'd already had breakfast, that the best thing I could do was go to the faux diner in the terminal, sit at the counter, and have breakfast, like I was starting a new day. So I sat there, drinking coffee, eating bacon and eggs and rye toast, and watching Sportscenter. And then I started my day again by getting on an airplane.

I guess there's a part 3 after all.