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Thursday, April 17, 2008


Thanks for the various gestures of kindness, everyone. I will probably not be doing very much of this blogging for a while. Love to all of you and all of yours.

Sunday, April 13, 2008


The wake will take place Tuesday.
I think it's 2 to 4 in the afternoon and then again from 7-9, but you can call them and check.
Moloney's Lake Funeral Home
132 Ronkonkoma Ave
Lake Ronkonkoma NY 11779
(631) 588 1515

Burial is Wednesday morning at Calverton, after mass at St Joseph's church, Ronkonkoma I think. I'll post more info if I can.
Thank you for the messages of support and sympathy.

Saturday, April 12, 2008


Mom is gone.

Thursday, April 10, 2008


Say, Brian, here we are at Keene Lake, having a fishing trip. What do you think the future holds?

well,
Snapshots.

A few images, for remembrance.

Standing: Brian, Peter, Brian's superb g/f Janice, Me, Dad.
Sitting: Mom, Maureen, Ira.


Mom and Brian with one of 'em... I think it's Miles.


Brian and Pete and Mom.

Wednesday, April 09, 2008


I see her sweet, sky-blue eyes every time I see Miles, and yesterday I saw hers again, now sightless and distant. She still hears, so I told her all I could think to say, kissed her as much as I could, held her close and sang some songs. Stardust (which we danced to when I married Shelley), Night and Day, Skylark, Small Fry, La Mer, I've Got You Under My Skin, I'll Be Seeing You, Paper Doll and others. She managed a few returned kisses and a number of smiles. Even now, frail and mysterious as it is, that smile is the sun, moon and stars. She is supposedly in no pain now, and that's a comfort. It's hard to predict how this is going to go with regard to my sister and me. I worry that she's gonna fall apart, since she's been the one taking care of Mom every day and night for months now. Her agony, weariness and worry is clear to see, and when the moment arrives I fear what all that bottled-up pain will become. Her caring and that of her husband Ira has been incredible... Mom could not have had finer and more tender treatment, and it's a debt I owe them. As for me, I have to assume I'll manage; I have no choice. But this is the fucking worst... the thing I've dreaded most in life.


I write this now as a means of putting it somewhere outside my head. Others reading this have gone through the same, and with enough grace and forbearance not to publicly wail. So I'm sorry for that... just trying to use what I can to cope. That's what a lot of this blogging has been, of course. Thanks to those of you who have responded in ways huge and small through all these avalanches; I know you will be there in coming weeks and months as well, and I thank you in advance because I truly don't know how well I'll be able to do so. One becomes numb, in part, after such relentless loss. Not numb to the love or the sorrow, but to other things... parts of me are dead, and that's just part of growing up, maybe. This is true, though: I am acutely aware of how lucky I've been to have this wonderful family, and I take all the tears as part of the bundle. I'm lucky to have my own wife and kids, 4 lifelines to the reason it all happens and all matters. I'm lucky to know such friends who've always reminded me what music and laughter can do even when I didn't feel that another song or smile was possible. I'll need it a lot now. And, best luck of all, I had Helen Rose. Christ, I am going to miss her.

Monday, April 07, 2008


Miles and Lily were about one and a half when this picture was taken. On recent visits to see their Nana, they insisted we stop for flowers. They are crazy about her, and Lily has a special bond with her, climbing up onto her bed and throwing her arms around her neck, kissing and nuzzling her. It's going to be very hard for both of them, especially Lily. We're told that Mom's got hours to go, maybe a few days. My sister faithfully attends her. We are both overwhelmed with dread and sorrow. I don't know what we're gonna do. My saint, my soul, my Mother.

Saturday, April 05, 2008


Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother's love is not. ~James Joyce


True in my case, and right now sorrow gathers because Mom is dying. It will be soon. Not soon enough, considering the pain she's endured, and too soon, considering what a horrible tragedy this is going to be. She was thrilled about Paris and beamed over the pictures I showed her. Now, Paris - my little dream that in its planning, experience and immediate aftermath occupied my mind and lifted my spirit in the grim sorrow of finding my brother dead and watching Mom fade away - is a memory. There's only this now. I prayed for her in Notre Dame cathedral, a proxy for her faith. Bought her a little rosary. Her God, not mine. Her Love is mine. She is and has always been a woman of faith, and I hope that sustains her in these last days. But she always had faith in me, too, and now I can only live up to it by giving that to my loved ones, especially Shelley, Alex, Miles and Lily. It's easy to do that, but the rest seems impossible.

Fuck, it's been brutal since 2001. Pete, Dad, Brian, and the million defeats and sorrows surrounding all that loss and all those tears. Friends gone - Hilly, Donna - friendships gone. Dreams evaporated, efforts wasted. It continues. I visited Mom on Wednesday and first took a walk through the old neighborhood. It's not mine anymore... summoning the ghosts was hard. I feel that way about music, too. And a lot of other things. But I got a hell of a welcome from my friends in Paris, and that gave me a lot of smiles to give Mom. I told her of all the exciting plans the trip inspired, and that made her glad. Fact is, those things are very unlikely; those plans were pipe dreams. But I dunno, I guess one thing I can do now is thank all those responsible for those sweet days and nights and the evanescent dreams they granted me and Mom for a little while. I'll thank Mom, too, but not now. She still breathes right now; maybe there's time for another kiss, another embrace. Maybe not.



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