It's been exactly one month since Alli passed away. I got up at 6AM this morning to go to synagogue in Amsterdam. The only one I found with a morning service was the famous one, entitled Esnoga, a portuguese synagogue erected 400 years ago. It was pouring rain, so I hopped the tram and it let me off right outside the synagogue. It was a gorgeous building... majestic even. Yet, I sat and ran the bell for forty-five minutes, getting beyond soaked and no one answered. I walked around and rang on the side doors; nothing. I found an open tourist cafe and checked the internet again telling me a service existed; it did. The time passed. I rang again, and again and again. Nothing. I gave up. In a final symbolic gesture, I dropped my bag in the rain, faced the west and did the Kaddish, by myself in Mr. Visselplein square at 8:30AM in Amsterdam, thinking that Alli was up there having a chuckle at my misfortune. I was soaked to the bone. I tried. I hopped the tram back and went home and right to bed. I love you Alli.