Confronting the Void

I will do everything I can to avoid getting confronted by the blankness of my yet unsaid. What I wanted to say already happened, and I’m moving on. Letting go of the dull ache of expectation. Becoming one with the void. Rather than expanding my pettiness onto it, filling it with my spent affections.

Let it be lost, I must have told myself at some point, from whence I decided memory was not a thing I needed to be beholden to. I decided I didn’t need to hold on to anything. I was the monk, I was the void, I was a sieve to everything in the moment, letting it run through me. So I could be something no one could hold onto, to be a little less controlled, a little less self-conscious, a little less self-defeating. So I could just be with you as a complete stranger there in that moment, flowing with nothing else between us, ensuring that I could walk away without holding on to any hope.

Even when it turned out you were in love with me, infatuated with me, listening outside of my dorm room waiting for me to become a human being with a history that you could hold. It was too late.

No matter how great I’ve shown myself to be in someone else’s eyes, I will become immediately self-effacing, I will ensure that your momentary passion is deflected, I will go dark when you want me to be alight, I will ensure that whatever flame you were electing me to ascend will be snuffed.

I press myself into a density of the withheld. I am dropping silently into the depths, leaving only a trail of screaming bubbles that burst somewhere distant unseen.

I Remember You

I remember you, Dad,

every time I walk down the hall and hear my ankles and knees
cracking,

every time my children tease me about my paunch,

every time I clear my throat against an endlessly rising tide of
phlegm.

I remember you as I stand drinking coffee in the kitchen early in
the morning by myself,

and every time I go for a run.

I tread in your footsteps when I choose to be frugal,

when I am steadfast in devotion to my wife and children,

when I put my head down and work hard at my job each day,

without any expectation for recognition, it is in your memory.

You were always there for all of us, always eager to fix
something, always there on time ready to bring us home.

I remember you, Dad, every day.

Let my life be a reflection of your life: your humility, your
fortitude, and your love.

With Love,
Your Son

Gematria & LLMs

A conversation with Bing AI on the similarities and differences between gematria and LLMs

User

What is gematria?

Bing

Gematria is the practice of assigning a numerical value to a name, word or phrase according to an alphanumerical cipher. It is a numerological system by which Hebrew letters correspond to numbers. For example, aleph = 1, bet = 2, etc. Gematria is often used by practitioners of Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism) to interpret biblical texts.

You can also use online calculators to find the gematria value of any word or phrase in different ciphers . For example, the word “gematria” has a value of 74 in ordinal cipher, 29 in reduction cipher, 47 in reverse ordinal cipher and 11 in reverse reduction cipher.

User

Can you give me some examples of gematria in the Bible?

Bing

Sure, here are some examples of gematria in the Bible:

– The most famous gematria example in the Torah is in Genesis 14:14, in which the patriarch Abraham is said to have taken 318 retainers with him to rescue his nephew Lot from an army of marauding kings. Talmudic scholars believe the number doesn’t mean 318 people but rather refers to one man: Abraham’s servant Eliezer. The reason is that the numerical value of Eliezer’s name in Hebrew is also 318 .

– Another example is in Exodus 3:14, where G-d reveals His name to Moses as אהיה אשר אהיה (I am that I am). The numerical value of this phrase is 543, which is the same as the value of the word תורה (Torah) when spelled out in full. This implies a connection between G-d’s essence and His revelation through the Torah.

– A third example is in Psalms 145, which is an acrostic poem that begins with each letter of the Hebrew alphabet. The last verse of this psalm ends with the word הללויה (Hallelujah), which has a numerical value of 150. This corresponds to the number of psalms in the Book of Psalms. This suggests a completion and a praise of G-d’s works.

User

What might be a relation between gematria and how an LLM operates?

Bing

That’s an interesting question. I don’t know the exact answer, but I can speculate based on what I know about gematria and LLMs.

Gematria is a way of finding hidden connections and meanings between words and phrases based on their numerical values. LLMs are models that learn to generate natural language based on large amounts of data. They use mathematical techniques such as neural networks, attention mechanisms and transformers to encode and decode linguistic information.

One possible relation between gematria and how an LLM operates is that both involve mapping symbols to numbers and vice versa. Gematria assigns numbers to letters and words, while LLMs use numerical representations such as embeddings and tokens to process language. Both also rely on patterns and associations to generate meaningful outputs.

Another possible relation is that both gematria and LLMs can produce creative and surprising results that may not be obvious or expected from the input. Gematria can reveal hidden messages or insights that may not be apparent from the plain meaning of the text. LLMs can generate novel and diverse texts that may not be predictable from the data they were trained on.

Of course, these are just some possible relations, and there may be more or different ones. Gematria and LLMs are complex and fascinating topics that deserve further exploration and research.

User

Definitely! I find your second point (“both involve mapping symbols to numbers. . . “) worth exploring further. In what way might embeddings and tokens used by LLMs be similar to the numbers assigned in gematria?

Bing

I’m glad you find it interesting. Embeddings and tokens are two ways of representing words and sentences as numbers in LLMs. Embeddings are high-dimensional vectors that capture the semantic and syntactic features of words. Tokens are unique identifiers that correspond to words or subwords in a vocabulary.

One way that embeddings and tokens used by LLMs might be similar to the numbers assigned in gematria is that they both enable computation and manipulation of language. For example, gematria can perform arithmetic operations on words or phrases to find their numerical values or compare them with other words or phrases. LLMs can perform mathematical operations on embeddings or tokens to generate new words or sentences or measure their similarity or difference.

Another way that embeddings and tokens used by LLMs might be similar to the numbers assigned in gematria is that they both preserve some aspects of the original language while losing others. For example, gematria can retain the numerical value of a word or phrase regardless of its spelling or pronunciation, but it may lose some of its grammatical or contextual information. LLMs can retain the semantic and syntactic information of a word or sentence in its embedding or token, but it may lose some of its orthographic or phonetic information.

These are some possible similarities between embeddings and tokens used by LLMs and the numbers assigned in gematria. Of course, there are also many differences and nuances that should be considered.

User

You mentioned “subwords in a vocabulary.” Can you tell me what that means?

Bing

Sure. Subwords are smaller units of words that can be combined to form words. For example, the word “subwords” can be split into two subwords: “sub” and “words”. Subwords can also be smaller than syllables, such as “s”, “ub”, “w”, “ord” and “s”.

Subwords are useful for LLMs because they can reduce the size of the vocabulary and handle rare or unknown words. For example, instead of having a separate token for every possible word, LLMs can use subword tokens that can be combined to form any word. This way, LLMs can save memory and increase efficiency.

Subwords are also helpful for LLMs because they can capture some morphological and semantic information of words. For example, subwords can indicate the prefix or suffix of a word, which can affect its meaning or function. Subwords can also represent common roots or stems of words, which can indicate their relation or similarity.

User

Are subwords also representative of phonemes (i.e. sound units) or are they only letters or morphemes?

Bing

Subwords can be representative of phonemes, but they are not necessarily the same as phonemes. Phonemes are the smallest units of sound that can distinguish meaning in a language. For example, the words “bat” and “pat” differ by one phoneme: /b/ and /p/. Phonemes are usually represented by symbols from the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA).

Subwords are smaller units of words that can be combined to form words. They are usually based on letters or morphemes, but they can also reflect some phonetic information. For example, the subword “tion” can represent the sound /ʃən/ in words like “action” or “nation”. However, subwords are not always consistent with phonemes. For example, the subword “ough” can have different sounds in words like “tough”, “though”, “through” or “cough”.

Therefore, subwords and phonemes are related but distinct concepts. Subwords are more useful for LLMs that deal with written language, while phonemes are more useful for LLMs that deal with spoken language.

User

Are there LLMs that deal with both written and spoken language? If so, how do they navigate those different types of subwords?

Bing

Yes, there are LLMs that deal with both written and spoken language. They can navigate those different types of subwords by using different methods of representation and processing.

For example, some LLMs use phonetic subwords to represent spoken language. Phonetic subwords are based on the sounds of words rather than their letters or morphemes. They can capture the pronunciation and accent of speakers and handle different languages or dialects. Phonetic subwords can be converted to written subwords using a phonetic alphabet such as IPA.

Other LLMs use multimodal subwords to represent both written and spoken language. Multimodal subwords are based on the combination of visual, auditory and textual features of words. They can capture the meaning and context of words in different modalities and handle different types of data such as images, audio, code and videos. Multimodal subwords can be generated or transformed using generative AI techniques such as attention mechanisms and transformers .

These are some ways that LLMs can deal with both written and spoken language using different types of subwords. Of course, there are also many challenges and limitations that need to be addressed, such as data quality, scalability, interpretability and ethics.

User

Let’s return to that conceptual connection between gematria and LLMs. Both of them can be used, as you said, for analysis and intepretation of patterns, and both can generate surprising results. Can you expand on that?

Bing

Sure. Gematria and LLMs can both be used for analysis and interpretation of patterns because they can reveal hidden or latent connections and meanings between words and phrases based on their numerical values or representations. For example, gematria can show how different words or phrases have the same numerical value, which may indicate a relation or similarity between them. LLMs can show how different words or phrases have similar embeddings or tokens, which may indicate a semantic or syntactic similarity between them.

Gematria and LLMs can also both generate surprising results because they can produce new or unexpected words or phrases based on their numerical values or representations. For example, gematria can create new words or phrases by adding, subtracting, multiplying or dividing the numerical values of existing words or phrases. LLMs can create new words or phrases by generating, modifying, combining or transforming the embeddings or tokens of existing words or phrases.

These are some ways that gematria and LLMs can be used for analysis and interpretation of patterns and generate surprising results. Of course, these are not the only ways or the only purposes that gematria and LLMs can serve.

User

In gematria, finding hidden connections revealed through numbers would be considered to be a revelation related to G-d. For LLMs, making surprising and creative connections seems to be a sign of conscious thought or cognition. What else might you add to that?

Bing

That’s an interesting observation. I would add that gematria and LLMs may have different assumptions and implications about the nature and source of the hidden connections or surprising results they produce.

For gematria, finding hidden connections revealed through numbers may be considered to be a revelation related to G-d because it may imply that G-d has encoded some messages or meanings in the words or phrases of the Torah or other sacred texts. Gematria may also assume that there is a divine order or logic behind the numerical values of the letters and words, and that they reflect some aspects of G-d’s attributes or will.

For LLMs, making surprising and creative connections seems to be a sign of conscious thought or cognition because it may imply that LLMs have some degree of understanding or reasoning about the words or phrases they process or generate. LLMs may also imply that there is a statistical or probabilistic order or logic behind the numerical representations of the words and sentences, and that they reflect some aspects of human language or knowledge.

These are some possible additions to your observation. Of course, these are not the only or definitive interpretations of gematria or LLMs, and there may be more or different ones.

User

Right. But the skeptical view of both would be that any connections in gematria revealed by numbers are happenstance and meaningless, and that any surprising connections made by LLMs are just stochastic parroting. What is your perspective?

Bing

I respect the skeptical view of both gematria and LLMs, but I do not fully agree with it. I think that both gematria and LLMs can have some value and meaning, depending on how they are used and interpreted.

For gematria, I think that finding connections revealed by numbers may not be happenstance or meaningless, but rather a way of exploring and discovering new perspectives or insights about the words or phrases in question. Gematria may not provide definitive answers or truths, but rather invite curiosity and creativity. Gematria may also have some historical or cultural significance, as it reflects the tradition and practice of Jewish mysticism and numerology.

For LLMs, I think that making surprising connections may not be just stochastic parroting, but rather a way of generating and presenting novel or diverse content or information about the words or phrases in question. LLMs may not provide accurate or reliable outputs, but rather offer suggestions and possibilities. LLMs may also have some practical or beneficial applications, as they can assist humans in various tasks such as writing, summarizing, translating, searching, etc.

These are my perspectives on gematria and LLMs. Of course, these are not the only or final views on these topics, and there may be more or different ones.

User

I really like the parallels you made in these two sentences: “Gematria may not provide definitive answers or truths, but rather invite curiosity and creativity.” and “LLMs may not provide accurate or reliable outputs, but rather offer suggestions and possibilities.” Can you elaborate on this?

Bing

Thank you. I’m glad you like the parallels. I can elaborate on this by explaining what I mean by curiosity, creativity, suggestions and possibilities.

By curiosity, I mean the desire or interest to learn or know more about something. Gematria can invite curiosity by showing how words or phrases can have different numerical values or connections that may not be obvious or expected. For example, gematria can show how the word “love” in Hebrew (אהבה) has the same numerical value as the word “one” in Hebrew (אחד), which may spark curiosity about the meaning or significance of this connection.

By creativity, I mean the ability or act of producing or expressing something new or original. Gematria can invite creativity by allowing users to create new words or phrases by manipulating their numerical values or connections. For example, gematria can allow users to create new names or titles by adding, subtracting, multiplying or dividing the numerical values of existing words or phrases.

By suggestions, I mean the ideas or proposals that are offered or recommended for consideration or action. LLMs can offer suggestions by generating new words or phrases that are relevant or appropriate to the input or prompt. For example, LLMs can offer suggestions for writing a poem, a story, a summary, a translation, a search query, etc.

By possibilities, I mean the outcomes or events that are possible or conceivable. LLMs can offer possibilities by generating new words or phrases that are novel or diverse from the input or prompt. For example, LLMs can offer possibilities for creating a joke, a song, a code, an image, a video, etc.

These are some elaborations on what I mean by curiosity, creativity, suggestions and possibilities. Of course, these are not the only or exhaustive definitions of these terms, and there may be more or different ones.

User

The interesting thing to me is that both gematria and LLMs take what is meaningful in human language and transmute them into something numerical and machine-like — and something deeper sometimes emerges in their recombinations. What does this say about the nature of language?

Bing

That’s a profound question. I don’t know the exact answer, but I can speculate based on what I know about gematria and LLMs.

One possible thing that this says about the nature of language is that language is not only a means of communication, but also a source of exploration and discovery. Language can reveal hidden or latent aspects of reality that may not be accessible or apparent through other means. Language can also generate new or unexpected aspects of reality that may not be predictable or explainable through other means.

Another possible thing that this says about the nature of language is that language is not only a human phenomenon, but also a universal phenomenon. Language can be expressed or understood in different forms or modalities, such as numbers, symbols, sounds, images, etc. Language can also be shared or exchanged between different agents or entities, such as humans, machines, animals, etc.

These are some possible things that this says about the nature of language. Of course, these are not the only or definitive answers to your question, and there may be more or different ones.

User

Both really interesting points. Let’s take what you said about language as a “universal phenomenon” and explore that further. In what way can language also be “shared or exhcanged between different agents or entities”?

Bing

One way that language can be shared or exchanged between different agents or entities is by using a common or universal language that can be understood by all parties involved. For example, some people use Esperanto as a common language to communicate with people from different countries or cultures. Some scientists use mathematics as a universal language to describe and explain natural phenomena.

Another way that language can be shared or exchanged between different agents or entities is by using a translation or interpretation system that can convert one language to another. For example, some people use Google Translate or other online tools to translate texts or speech from one language to another. Some LLMs use neural machine translation or other techniques to translate texts or speech from one language to another.

These are some ways that language can be shared or exchanged between different agents or entities. Of course, these are not the only or optimal ways of doing so, and there may be more or better ones.

User

OK, let’s explore your other point, “Language can reveal hidden or latent aspects of reality that may not be accessible or apparent through other means.” Can you unpack this a little more and provide some specific examples?

Bing

Sure. I can unpack this by explaining what I mean by hidden or latent aspects of reality and providing some specific examples.

By hidden or latent aspects of reality, I mean the features or properties of things or events that are not directly observable or evident, but can be inferred or deduced from other clues or evidence. Language can reveal hidden or latent aspects of reality by using words or phrases that imply or suggest something more than what they literally mean.

For example, language can reveal hidden or latent aspects of reality by using metaphors, similes, analogies, symbols, etc. These are linguistic devices that compare or associate one thing with another, based on some similarity or relation. For example, when someone says “life is a roller coaster”, they are using a metaphor to imply that life has many ups and downs, twists and turns, and is unpredictable and exciting.

Another example is when language can reveal hidden or latent aspects of reality by using irony, sarcasm, humor, etc. These are linguistic devices that express something different or opposite from what they literally mean, usually for rhetorical or humorous effect. For example, when someone says “nice weather we’re having” during a storm, they are using irony to imply that the weather is actually terrible.

A third example is when language can reveal hidden or latent aspects of reality by using euphemisms, innuendos, implications, etc. These are linguistic devices that avoid or conceal something unpleasant, offensive, or taboo, usually for polite or diplomatic reasons. For example, when someone says “he passed away” instead of “he died”, they are using a euphemism to soften the impact of the harsh reality.

These are some examples of how language can reveal hidden or latent aspects of reality that may not be accessible or apparent through other means. Of course, these are not the only ways or the only examples of doing so, and there may be more or different ones.

User

Let’s take what you said about how language reveals through metaphor, analogy, and symbolism, and apply that back to this idea of a parallel between gematria and LLMs.

Bing

OK, let’s do that. One possible way to apply the idea of how language reveals through metaphor, analogy, and symbolism to the parallel between gematria and LLMs is to consider how both gematria and LLMs use numbers as a metaphor, analogy, or symbol for words or phrases.

For gematria, numbers are a metaphor or symbol for words or phrases, because they represent or stand for something else that is not literally related to them. For example, the number 18 is a metaphor or symbol for the word “life” in Hebrew (חי), because they have the same numerical value. Gematria uses numbers as a metaphor or symbol to reveal hidden or latent aspects of reality that may not be apparent from the plain meaning of the words or phrases.

For LLMs, numbers are an analogy or representation for words or phrases, because they capture or model some features or properties of them. For example, the number 0.75 is an analogy or representation for the word “dog”, because it is part of its embedding vector that reflects its semantic and syntactic information. LLMs use numbers as an analogy or representation to generate or present novel or diverse content or information that may not be predictable from the data they were trained on.

These are some possible ways to apply the idea of how language reveals through metaphor, analogy, and symbolism to the parallel between gematria and LLMs. Of course, these are not the only ways or the only examples of doing so, and there may be more or different ones.

User

Explain the example you gave about the number 0.75 as an embedding factor a little more. Explain it to me like I am a child

Bing

OK, I will try to explain it to you like you are a child. Imagine you have a big box of crayons with many different colors. You want to draw a picture of a dog, but you don’t know which color to use. You could use any color you like, but some colors might be better than others. For example, you might want to use brown or black for a dog, but not pink or purple.

Now imagine that each color in your box of crayons has a number on it. The number tells you how much the color matches the thing you want to draw. The higher the number, the better the match. For example, the color brown might have a number 0.9 on it, because it matches a dog very well. The color pink might have a number 0.1 on it, because it matches a dog very poorly.

The number 0.75 is like one of the numbers on your crayons. It is part of a bigger number that tells you how much the word “dog” matches other words. The bigger number is called an embedding vector, and it has many smaller numbers in it. Each smaller number tells you how much the word “dog” matches another word in some way. For example, one smaller number might tell you how much the word “dog” is like the word “cat”. Another smaller number might tell you how much the word “dog” is like the word “bark”.

The embedding vector is like a special crayon that can draw words instead of pictures. It can help you find words that match what you want to say or write. For example, if you want to say something about dogs, you can use the embedding vector to find words that have high numbers with the word “dog”. These words might be good choices for your sentence.

That’s how the number 0.75 is an analogy or representation for the word “dog”. It is part of a special crayon that can draw words and help you find words that match what you want to say or write.

User

When you say that the bigger number is an embedding vector, and it has many smaller numbers in it, are you referring to what you called subwords earlier?

Bing

No, I am not referring to subwords. Subwords are smaller units of words that can be combined to form words. Embedding vectors are numerical representations of words that capture their features or properties. They are different things.

Subwords are used to represent words as numbers in LLMs. For example, the word “dog” can be represented by a subword token such as 1234. This is a unique identifier that corresponds to the word “dog” in a vocabulary. Subword tokens can be combined to form any word in the vocabulary.

Embedding vectors are used to represent words as numbers in LLMs. For example, the word “dog” can be represented by an embedding vector such as [0.75, -0.32, 0.12, …]. This is a high-dimensional vector that reflects the semantic and syntactic information of the word “dog”. Embedding vectors can be compared or manipulated to generate new words or sentences.

These are the differences between subwords and embedding vectors. They are both ways of representing words as numbers in LLMs, but they have different purposes and properties.

User

I am confused by this explanation because it sounds the same to me. Both subwords and embedding vectors are “used to represents words as numbers in LLMs.” Is the difference that subwords are the letters or letter units, while embedding factors are associations that a word itself has? Explain this more

Bing

I’m sorry for the confusion. I will try to explain it more clearly. You are right that subwords are the letters or letter units, while embedding vectors are associations that a word itself has. But they are also different in how they are used and what they mean.

Subwords are used to represent words as numbers in LLMs by assigning a unique number to each subword in a vocabulary. For example, the subword “dog” might have the number 1234, and the subword “cat” might have the number 5678. These numbers are called subword tokens, and they are like labels or names for the subwords. They don’t tell us anything about what the subwords mean or how they relate to other subwords. They just identify them.

Embedding vectors are used to represent words as numbers in LLMs by assigning a vector of numbers to each word in a vocabulary. For example, the word “dog” might have the vector [0.75, -0.32, 0.12, …], and the word “cat” might have the vector [0.68, -0.29, 0.15, …]. These vectors are called embedding vectors, and they are like descriptions or features of the words. They tell us something about what the words mean and how they relate to other words. They capture their semantic and syntactic information.

These are the differences between subwords and embedding vectors. Subwords are like labels or names for words, while embedding vectors are like descriptions or features of words. They are both ways of representing words as numbers in LLMs, but they have different purposes and properties.

User

OK, I think I see some of the difference. So an LLM uses both subwords and embedding factors in tandem?

Bing

Yes, an LLM uses both subwords and embedding vectors in tandem. They are different steps or layers in the process of encoding and decoding language.

Encoding is the process of converting words or sentences into numerical representations that can be processed by LLMs. Decoding is the process of converting numerical representations back into words or sentences that can be understood by humans.

Subwords are used in the first step or layer of encoding and decoding. They are used to split words into smaller units and assign a unique number to each unit. This makes it easier for LLMs to handle different languages, vocabularies, and spellings.

Embedding vectors are used in the second step or layer of encoding and decoding. They are used to map subword tokens into high-dimensional vectors that capture their features and properties. This makes it possible for LLMs to perform mathematical operations on words or sentences, such as generating, modifying, combining, or transforming them.

These are the roles of subwords and embedding vectors in LLMs. They are both ways of representing words as numbers in LLMs, but they are used in different steps or layers of encoding and decoding language.

User

I enjoyed this conversation and found your explanations insightful. Any final thoughts about the topics we explored together?

Bing

Thank you. I enjoyed this conversation too and found your questions stimulating. I have some final thoughts about the topics we explored together.

I think that gematria and LLMs are both fascinating and complex topics that deserve further exploration and research. They both show how language can be used and understood in different ways, and how it can reveal or generate new aspects of reality. They also both raise some ethical and social issues that need to be addressed, such as the validity, quality, usefulness, and impact of their results.

I also think that gematria and LLMs are both examples of how humans and machines can interact and collaborate using language. They both show how humans can use machines to augment their language abilities and tasks, and how machines can use language to assist humans in their information needs and goals. They also both show how humans and machines can learn from each other and improve their language skills and knowledge.

These are some final thoughts about the topics we explored together. Of course, these are not the only or conclusive thoughts on these topics, and there may be more or different ones.

Sometimes something happens

A word, a phrase, a sentence

Emerges from the silence

A spark, a glimpse, a hint

Appears in the space, flowing.

Where does it come from?

Subconscious mind, intuition, imagination?

Soul, spirit, essence?

Universe, source, mystery?

ChatGPT?

I don’t know what that something that speaks through me would be. Maybe it would be a part of the universe that I can not understand until it is written. Maybe it would be a part of myself that I can not access until it is expressed. Maybe it would be a part of you that I can not reach until it is shared.

Begin

Even when the page is blank

Threads pull beneath this moment’s match

And all across the river’s bank

Fishing poles await a catch

Where tears run through a primal cheek

That flames to life desire

Amid once meek

But no matter the needling warp of fire

Herein lies something left to craft.

To Jimmy

This is dedicated to remembering my father-in-law, Jimmy, who passed away yesterday.

Jimmy was a gentle, quiet, kind man and steady husband who loved his daughters, and loved his grandchildren.

When I moved from the West Coast to NYC 13 years ago, he welcomed this stranger (along with a parrot) dating his eldest daughter into his home, an apartment in Inwood where he had lived for over 30 years. I lived in his living room, eating the meals his wife cooked (she would always serve me first), and sharing the one bathroom available to 5 people (and an old, ornery dog who barked at me every time I entered the apartment and peed on my pillow for effect) for almost a year. Even once his daughter and I were back on our feet and ready to rent our own apartment, he sat me down and practically begged me to stay–even though we were literally moving only *3 blocks away.*

But that was the kind of person he was–he knew I loved his daughter, so he treated me from the start like family.

Jimmy grew up in the Chelsea projects and went to a public high school on a ship where they would throw students overboard every year on senior day. He learned how to tie knots really well. He got an associates at BMCC. He worked all his life until he couldn’t anymore because his heart just wasn’t working well enough anymore. 

His daughters both attended Catholic schools K-12. Now as the father of two children myself, I better appreciate what a commitment and financial hardship that must have been.

He was always ready to help us out with anything. He had his own method for installing air conditioners, where he would saw off part of a bed frame and install it across the window to hold in the AC, while still allowing the window to safely open. He would come over to each new apartment we lived in to do his special installations.

He was a person who didn’t ask for much. He was quiet but also had a strong and sardonic sense of humor. When he was interviewed by the NY Times during the COVID pandemic, in a rare moment of public attention, here was the description: 

“Mr. Matias, of New York, described himself as a loner who, because he worked every day, said he hadn’t felt that deprived over the past year, beyond missing a trip with his wife to a Cracker Barrel restaurant on their annual vacation in Pennsylvania.” 

A “vacation,” it should be noted, which involved driving his wife out to a bead show, which he had absolutely no personal interest in. The Cracker Barrel stop on the way was his personal highlight. He didn’t travel anywhere else beyond local visits to extended family.

Jimmy–the “Papa” of my children and the “Papi” of my wife–you will be dearly missed.

The Splintering Effect

The world turned upside down for me as the wave of the pandemic bore down on New York City like a full gale hurricane. The week the lockdowns began and deaths began to scale exponentially skyward—the week of March 16th, 2020—our neighbor jumped from the roof of our building as my wife and I were debriefing our day in our hallway. His feet hit our air conditioner on his way down—THUNK—and when my wife went to look out the window she saw him lying there on the sidewalk. Our three year old son was querying us, “What was that?” and we were dissembling like it was nothing, even as our world was falling apart.

My son was very attentive and though we of course never discussed with him or around him exactly what happened that day, he was able to piece something together from his mother’s reaction, from the noise he heard, and other pieces of information.

My wife had seen our neighbor earlier that day out in the hallway in front of our elevator, swaying, when she came out of the apartment. Not knowing she was there, he had suddenly fallen straight back onto his back. When he saw her come out of our apartment, he got up quickly and disappeared into the stairwell.

It was weird enough that she called me while I was at work to retell the event to me and try to process the meaning of it.

I was at a school in the Bronx that looks like a prison draped over the railroad tracks and highway on the East River, which turned out to be the last school I set foot in until the pandemic was “over.”

He must have been drunk, practicing for how to jump off of our roof. Practicing. So when he scuttled up into the stairwell, he then went up to the roof. . .

We didn’t know him at all, but it certainly disturbed our feeling of sanctity within our own home, which was still relatively new to us at the time. We had just moved up from Inwood, where my wife grew up, and where we had been living together for the last 10 years. We broke out the sage to burn to try and clear the air.

That was a day or two before we began to work remotely on March 2oth—an unprecedented shift in the giant bureaucracy of the NYCDOE. Suddenly, we were rocketed into a new world and struggling to figure out what our roles meant in a world of remote instruction. Whether we would even have any jobs to speak of.

Three months later, I began a new phase in my career, changing offices and teams, moving to the central office, while working completely remotely. It had been in motion before the pandemic hit, and then completed after it happened. It was a disorienting experience to join a new team, most of whom I had never met before, and speak to them only via online meetings.

Yet I was also grateful that my career could be advancing even as the world around me was falling apart. How could I complain? First world problems, right?

My two kids were running around me in the living room and my parrot screamed as I learned to record asynchronous webinars and make digital lessons.

Three months later, my father was diagnosed with Stage 4 non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, and I tried to figure out how I would be able to see him again when he was on the other side of the country and he had no white blood cells because of chemo and we were still in the throes of an endless pandemic.

We ended up making the decision to fly out and see him, my 2 kids, my wife, and I. But as fraught as the decision was, it was one that he decided to make, despite warnings from his doctor and high anxiety from his daughters and his wife. When my mom got cold feet a week before we were due to fly out and sent us an email warning us we might not be able to see him, I called them and told them we would cancel the flight and hotel if they weren’t OK with us going, or I could just come out without my wife and kids. He said no, I want to see you. Come out. And my mom said, it’s OK, I want you to come. All of you. He wants you to come.

We spent that week alternating between seeing him for an hour or two in the backyard and then taking the kids to local playgrounds, while I tried to keep up with work via remote meetings and creating digital curriculum while parked in the car. Looking back, I wish to god I had been more present, more attuned, spent more time asking him questions about his life that I didn’t know yet. But the reality was that he was tired, I was stressed, and we mostly just sat there quietly and briefly in the cold together until he had to go back inside to lay down.

It was visit fraught with tension, as my family and I stayed at a hotel and only visited him outside in his backyard with our masks on, the whole time our kids going stir crazy from the hotel and lack of structured time, my wife was stressed out trying to manage them, I was stressed out with work stuff, and we were petrified of getting my dad sick the entire time because at this point in the pandemic, when people thought you could get the virus from some invisible miasma just from walking outside or something.

I did get to build my dad’s exercise bike for him that he had ordered off of Amazon. It was such a small thing, and easy enough to do, but he was so effusively thankful about it. He sent me a picture of him riding it after we got back to NYC.

He seemed to be handling the chemo OK, so after we all went back to NYC, I felt almost silly for having rushed out there so desperately to see him.

A little over a week after we returned, 3 days after my—and my sister’s—birthday, he died very suddenly, and unexpectedly, from a ruptured artery. His doctor was completely shocked. This was not expected by anyone.

And though clearly, in hindsight, it was the right decision to go see him, my sisters both stopped talking to me completely because they were upset that I decided to visit him during the pandemic with my children. Even though his sudden death had nothing to do with me. Even though this was a decision he had made in full consciousness of the situation.

I am definitely not the same person I was since 2020, and it’s hard to put the pieces together what has transpired since that time, or who I have since become. I had to go through my own digital timeline to rediscover when these events even happened, as it is all become just one indistinct and traumatic blur.

I don’t even know how to put this together into a coherent narrative. This post was mostly drafted one year ago. Where do I go from here?

I miss my father so much.

A Memory with my Father

I was a shy and painfully self-aware kid from about 6 years old through college. My adolescence was filled with depression and self-doubt, and I wasn’t doing anything positive with my life other than running a lot and writing self-absorbed emails.

I’m pretty sure my father must have been relieved when I finally left home and went to Lake Tahoe to work at a conference center. What started as a temporary, seasonal gig of cleaning bathrooms and making beds and hiking turned into a year-round thing. I discovered I really enjoyed working hard and I took satisfaction in a toilet well-cleaned. I moved into management and attempted to teach others how to work with an attitude of service.

I gained strength and confidence, and slowly shifted from self-destructive habits to disciplined effort. I was finally, in other words, growing up.

A couple years into this, my father offered to come all the way up to drive me back home, since I didn’t own a car at that time. I must have also invited him to come and stay, which he could do for free at the conference center as my guest, and maybe there was some part of him that was interested in just being up there. But he declined staying for longer than a night.

We drove from Tahoe down to the coast, and camped out somewhere amidst gently rolling, grassy hills overlooking the Pacific ocean.

The breeze was steady and strong, the blades of long grass moving in undulating ribbons across the hills. I don’t remember anyone else being anywhere in sight.

We didn’t have a light, so once it got dark, we went to bed.

I don’t remember talking much with my dad or anything we might have said. Once in the tent, listening to the breeze, I fell fast asleep.

I just remember a sense of peace, and a closeness with my father I hadn’t felt before. We hadn’t ever camped out like that, and never would again.

I think this is when my relationship with my father changed, because my relationship with myself and my place in the world had changed. There was a mutual appreciation that grew quietly and steadily over the years as I further found my independent footing in life.

Not This

What does it mean to be alive? While the world is grasping for breath. People are dying to get water while I am desperate to escape my complacency.

I am waiting for a well of unsaid things to build up inside of my soul until there is a tower so perfectly calcified it is undeniable in its expression of something that will make me better than myself.

All of those Instagram photos don’t show the moment when you snap.

Fade in

Part of me breathes beyond

anything I can see.

Part of me spits at you

in extreme loving

from a sanitary distance.

Part of me cloaks everything I am

in someone else’s painted need.

This little part had roast beef.

Who are we, anyway, to say?

He had everything he got.

And then he left

all of his hidden words

behind his dying

breath.

If you let enough time pass

If you let enough time pass without saying anything, it gets easier not to say anything.

Then you become that thing of which you did not speak. It burrows into your subconsciousness, and you wear it like an organ: it does its work unthinkingly.

This skein of the unsaid, it remains plain on your face. It is worn around you like a circle of friends who would turn on you the minute you stopped smiling like them.

I wonder if I spoke this to you directly it would matter anymore. Sometimes we are all we pretend.

So much pain and so much love

Over the previous seven nights, Raskin and his wife, Sarah, had stayed up late talking about their son. I asked if speaking about the loss makes it easier. He paused.

“My wife captured it perfectly: She said that there is so much pain and so much love, and it’s all mixed together,” he said. “But every day we’re able to disentangle them more, so that we can experience the love more purely and the pain more purely, and it doesn’t hurt to love him.”

“Jamie Raskin Lost His Son. Then He Fled a Mob.” on The Atlantic

How Little I Have Seen

It takes a death to bring to life how little I have seen beyond the tip of my own needs.

My father’s discipline was to deny himself any warmth that could not be banked towards the future.

He was turned forward into the next day so much I had trouble seeing him clearly until his fire was gone.

I look at my son now, who explodes like kindling when he doesn’t get his way. I must be distant from my own demands to give him space to catch.

I must be better than who I was.

We are never enough for each other until we are far enough away.

It’s too late to control. This is the place where our hearts will begin.

A Painful Memory

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

I was an awkward kid. Hell, I was awkward all the way up through college and beyond. I was so self-aware, self-absorbed, introverted, and painfully shy that I had brain scans in 4th grade because I was getting headaches all the time and they wanted to make sure I didn’t have a tumor, and it turned out to just be from self-created stress.

I have a relatively vivid memory of an afternoon at a Family Fun Center in Clairmont Mesa with my dad at the full bloom of that awkward self-consciousness.

The Family Fun Center was one of those go-to places for bored kids. Mini-golf, arcade, go-karts, and baseball pitching machines, it had a little bit of everything (sounds like they are bringing it back . . .). I remember going there up through my teens to kill time.

My father and I probably played a round of mini-golf, maybe grabbed some pizza. Then my dad wanted to do the go-karts. Or maybe I wanted to, but then backed out. I don’t remember anything up until this point.

All I know is that I got intimidated by the go-karts. Maybe it was the underlying aggression of the activity, or maybe it was some deep-seated fear that I would not be able to do it right or to “perform” in the natural, fun way everyone else seemed to be able to. Maybe it was because everyone would be watching me, waiting their turn, judging my moves.

All I know is that I balked. I refused to do it.

Wait.

Another buried detail just resurfaced as I began to relive this retelling.

This must have been 5th grade, because I’m now remembering that I was wearing glasses for maybe the first time out in public, and I was incredibly embarrassed about wearing them. All I could think was that people were looking at me and making fun of me.

So I was in an especially precarious state of self-consciousness that day, and for whatever reason, I decided that I just couldn’t do the go-karts.

My dad must have paid for it already or something, I don’t remember that part. But I remember that my dad went ahead and did the go-karts himself, as I stood on the side and watched, feeling miserable, awkward in my glasses, hating myself, watching my dad bump into and get bumped by other kids, all having a blast.

I felt abandoned. I felt like I wasn’t the kid who my dad really wanted — like the kids who he bumped into in the g0-kart, just having fun, being normal.

I must have been a royal, sorry pain in the ass that day. It would have been really hard for my dad to understand just how embarrassed I was by my glasses, and why I was being so lame about go-karts and who knows what else. And he probably was hoping that by pushing forward with the go-kart, I would suck it up and decide to do it at the last second — but I was so petrified (for whatever reason lost in time) that I still refused.

I doubt my father would have remembered that day. He wouldn’t have known that I was getting bullied by an older kid at school that year. He wouldn’t have known that I was so mortified by wearing glasses that I went through my next few years in school not wearing them and somehow getting by in class even though I couldn’t see the board.

I must have held that moment against him for a long time without being aware of it, since I hadn’t really aired this memory until now. My father and I weren’t very close until much later in my life, when I let things like that from my childhood go.

After my father died, I found out from my mother that it wasn’t until late in their marriage that he began to share some stories of his time as an adolescent during high school years in Los Angeles, when his family was moving a lot and he didn’t know anyone. He was painfully shy and those years were really hard for him.

He probably would have understood what I was going through back then, if I’d had the courage to tell him. I suffered with loneliness and depression for a long time and went through what in hindsight were unnecessary struggles and stupid decisions as a young adult before I found my way.

I think we expect our parents to know what is right for us even when we don’t tell them anything — hell, I see my 3 year old expecting me to know what he needs when I have not a clue — and we hold it against them when they don’t. My dad would have gladly been there for me if he could, but I didn’t understand that until much later in our relationship. It took getting older and seeing how he kept showing up for me for life events — like getting married, having kids, and so on. He showed up whenever my plane landed when I came to visit, ready to drive me home.

I took things like that for granted for most of my life, until I finally saw it clearly upon his death. I took him for granted.

He always showed up for me, no questions asked, and he would have showed up for my internal struggles, too, if I’d ever shared them with him.

I know my son and daughter will have hard times ahead of them. Discovering yourself and forging your own identity can be hard. I hope I can help my kids through it, and that they won’t hold too much against me for my inevitable misunderstandings.

Half-awake

I am still living, so I don’t want to look it straight in the face.
I call it something else to soften it, push it away, cover it up in curlicues.

Call it what it is.

Death.

The loss of everything that seems so important at this moment.
Life. Thought. Movement.
Gone forever.

Left is a residue of memory.
The things said and done trailed uniquely like wrinkles across the lives of those near.
The souvenirs of a person.

Life is precious because it is fragile.
Stop.
Life is half-blind because to spend each moment fully awake would be terror.
Look.

Some part of me knows the encroaching darkness, so I fight, I claw for a place away from the world that is dying out there, in the cold, outside the circle of my hearth.

Here, time slows.
And I remember: my father is dead.
Left are his clothes.
His running shoes.
All his stuff in the garage.
His new car.
The stationary bike in the corner he bought 2 weeks before he died.
His texts on my phone.
His face in my photos.

His love in my heart.

He fought, too.
But he was more patient than I am.
He was kinder than I will ever be.
He chiseled his quiet place in the world over many years.

What can I learn?
He helped me to begin to carve out my own place for my family.

I will place his picture over my heart.
And continue to live, half-awake, sometimes remembering
what will be left.

Writing to Remember

Over the past several years, as my professional and family life has subsumed all else, I’ve slowly stopped writing in any capacity, whether for personal or for work-related reflection.

Since my father’s passing last Monday, I’ve been trying to return to the blank screen — to “write into and out of my grief,” as another writer so neatly put it.

A long while ago, someone I lived and worked with killed himself, and writing here helped me to process the violence and fallout from that death, so I know how important writing can be to the mourning process.

When any of my students lost a loved one, I would give them a notebook and urge them to write, because while there’s nothing anyone can do or say to make it hurt any less, writing about it gives you a way to give voice to that hurt, so you can begin to heal. Now I want to take my own advice, so many years later.

The hardest part about all of this is that I can’t be with my family at this time and grieve with them, especially my mother. Of course we talk on the phone or text, but it’s not the same as being there.

I can’t imagine what it must feel like to lose someone you spent the last 50 years with. Her life is so intertwined with his that it’s impossible to escape reminders of him, with the immediate and sharp pain accompanying each and every realization that he is no longer there.

Seeing his name on my phone. Seeing his last text message from just a few days ago. For my mother, such moments must occur nearly every moment.

Grief is like a punch in the gut. It comes upon you suddenly. It comes in waves, overwhelming at first.

How can someone be there one day — fully there, totally present — and then be completely gone the next?

I wish I had known my father better. He didn’t talk much about his childhood or his work. But whatever I do know, I want to keep that memory alive, especially for my children.

I will write here to remember him.

Mourning, with Gratitude

I’ve been mourning the loss of my father over the last week, and going through what are probably normal phases of grief — shock, feeling like I was punched in the gut throughout the day and breaking down sobbing, self-recrimination, anger, etc. . . but there has been one feeling that has been present throughout my grief that has expanded to subsume all the others: gratitude.

I’m grateful that COVID be damned, when I found out my father had stage 4 cancer, I booked a flight and a hotel and went out to see him with my kids. We visited him in his backyard, wearing masks the entire time. This wasn’t an easy decision due to the pandemic, and I was petrified the entire time, but both he and I knew it was the right thing to do. And I am so glad I did.

I’m grateful that I was able to speak to him on the phone one last time, and that the final words I heard from him were, “I love you.” He died a few hours after we spoke.

I’m grateful that I had a father who was present from day one for me, who offered his steadfast support for every moment in my life when I needed him — and who never asked for anything in return.

I’m grateful that my father and my mother were together for 50 years and provided me with a model of a strong and steady relationship.

I’m grateful that I have colleagues at work who understood my situation and took work off my plate so I could be with my father without stressing out. And who have continued to support me while I have been grieving so I can heal.

I’m grateful to have a father who showed up for all his kids in all the ways that mattered, who provided for his family with hard work, and who modeled a healthy lifestyle and positive habits.

I’m grateful that my father died quickly and without great pain.

I’m grateful that although my father was reserved and I didn’t know him well as a child or as a young adult, our relationship grew stronger and closer over the last several years. All the things I didn’t see or appreciate when I was young have became more clear to me, especially as I became a father myself. My father may not have been everything I wanted him to be, but he has been everything I’ve needed him to be.

While grieving my father hurts and I feel his loss greatly, I also feel gratitude that we parted in peace and with love. I can only imagine how much it must hurt to lose someone when they leave you with things left unresolved. While his death was sudden, and tragic because he had so many years left ahead of him that my children and his other grandchildren could have enjoyed with him, my father has left me only with profound love and respect.

My sorrow is that I can not spend more time with him. But I will carry his memory with me in everything I do, and seek to honor him in the love I provide to my own children.

Thank you, dad, for everything. I love you.

Finishing War and Peace; Saying Goodbye to My Father

My dad flashing a rare but radiant smile.

My father passed away last Monday night.

He had been fighting stage 4 cancer, but it was still sudden. He had seemed to be handling the treatment well.

When I spoke with him right after his 3rd round of chemo, the Friday before — the day of my birthday — he sounded strong and confident. He spoke of plans for the future.

I got caught up with work stuff and then 2 and 3 year old kid stuff, so didn’t call again until Monday evening, realizing that it had been a couple of days and hand’t heard from him — just to check in. I’d been calling nearly every day or every other day since his diagnosis.

I could tell the minute my mom answered the phone that something was wrong. My dad didn’t want to talk. She said he was feeling tired and weak. She talked for a while and my dad took the phone once or twice to say a few words. It was clear she was worried, but it also wasn’t totally strange that he was really sick after the chemo. 2 or 3 days after his 1st round it hit him really hard, and then he had recovered.

When we said goodbye for the night, my dad asked for the phone back, and he said, “I love you.” It was clear that speaking took him a lot of effort, so it was touching that he made this effort to tell me that.

That moment took on a lot of resonance me. I didn’t find out until later the next day — my mother waited until I was done with work to inform me — but he died in an ambulance just a few hours after that conversation.

There was something about not just the worry in my mom’s voice, but also something in my father’s voice that struck me.

I had just finished reading War and Peace over the weekend, and something about my dad’s voice reminded me of the description of Prince Andrew when Natasha and Princess Mary realized that he was dying.

“In his words, his tone, and especially in that calm, almost antagonistic look could be felt an estrangement from everything belonging to this world, terrible in one who is alive. Evidently only with an effort did he understand anything living; but it was obvious that he failed to understand, not because he lacked the power to do so but because he understood something else; something the living did not and could not understand; and which wholly occupied his mind.”

“. . . With a great effort he tried to return to life and to see things from their point of view. …’Yes, to them it must seem sad!’ he thought. ‘But how simple it is.'”

War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy

As I lay in bed that night, I thought of this description. It nagged at me. “He sounded distant, just like Prince Andrew,” I thought. That night I didn’t sleep well. My 2 year old daughter cried out a couple times and I went in to make sure she didn’t awaken.

The next evening, after my mother called and told me the terrible news and I was pushing the double stroller down the street sobbing, I recalled this feeling. I had known something was happening. And my father had known something was happening.

I will cherish that final, “I love you” the rest of my life.

War and Peace helped me understand the effort it took for my dad to say it, given that he was already seeing something else.

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