|WALKING TO MASS LAST SUNDAY MORNING|
I could sit by the little heater in my hotel room and be comfy and warm and look out the window at Route 95—the people heading north toward Maine; the people headed south towards Boston—and ponder. I hooked up right away, as I always do, with the local sober drunks who, also as always, saved my life. My brother Geordie, in from fishing, called almost every day and we must have gone out four or five times, just driving around or to breakfast. We are both up early and had no-one else that was up early and just to have someone, however briefly, who will call you and wants to hang out for an hour or two was a huge gift.
But the main thing was my realization that, at this late stage of the game, I may at least have started to grow up. I visited with many family members and friends who were in chronic physical and/or emotional pain, and for the most part I was able to not somehow make their pain about me. I was able, in whatever small way I could, to stand at the foot of the cross with people but also somehow didn’t try to do TOO much. I was available to others if they needed me or wanted to be with me, and at the same time I think I probably would have been okay even if nobody wanted to, or had been able to see me.
|MY VERY FUNNY BROTHER ROSS|
|NEPHEW ALLEN (ROSS'S SON) WITH HIS HAND-CRAFTED "COMB GLASSES"|
"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget, I will not forget you!
|AND I WILL NOT FORGET YOU EITHER...|