I am very grateful to those who stood beside me and encouraged my remembrance. Thank you.
How It Looks Now
The eleven months restored me. As time passed, I learned:
- Life goes on. Just this week I lunched with many of my mother's friends. Their vitality and engagement continues unabated. My admiration for them abides.
- Mourners are not alone. So many friends lost parents during these months. One just reported that his 26-year-old niece died last week. The obituary of Don Calhoun — a tennis nemesis of mine decades ago, the judge was very tall at the net — ran in today's newspaper. Misery doesn't really like company, but it fosters collaboration among the mortal.
- I miss her. While I don't ever wish she had prolonged her dotage, I miss sharing moments of daily living with her. We had fun. I worked for her approval.
Friends and Parents
The week after my mother died, Jules and Judy Garel invited the mourners — my sisters, our families — to their home for a conversation and a toast to Jackie.
Judy taught: "Of course, we don't wish our parents would die. But if they live long lives, it does make some sense when they do die. Surviving your parents is the best case scenario. But it never makes sense when a friend dies. Your mother has died. That makes sense to you. I've lost a friend. I need a bridge partner for next week. That does not make sense."
(I've badly paraphrased her statement.)
On Living A Long Life
Please read Roger Angell's "This Old Man" in the February 17 & 24th edition of The New Yorker. (Here it is. If that link does not work, please visit artie.co for the fresh link.)
His sports writing has always been a treasure. His writing has never been finer than today.