The Incomparable Gerald F. Tucci
I ran into a friend of ours last night. I was just at a conference in Idaho last week. A guy I had just met revealed that he was a close friend of yours and Matt’s. And then he checked his phone.
Coping with Loss
Catching the gold ring
We have long implored my father to write his memoirs. His life is a truly amazing story, and one we all know would entertain the masses. Selfishly I want it written down, in his hand. Want to remember every morsel for the rest of time. It is not to be believed.
The wonder years
Maybe the real sign of getting older is how many ‘days’ you collect; how many occasions there are to remember someone who has passed, milestones of personal tragedy and triumph, moments to take pause and remember.
Feral mothers
It’s a primal life force, a mother’s love. For so many years after my mom passed I thought mostly of that aching loss, the loss of her undying devotion and love for me. Every word, every action, each argument even…they were all steeped in her immense love for me. I always felt it.
Kodak dreams
They’re not even digital. I recycle like its my job. Not water bottles, though I try. Photos of my mom. The pictures of pictures I post on these milestone days year after year. It kills me that not one of them is digital.
The empty bowl
So this is for you mom. That day when you were in your dressing room, and you took too long to come out, it comes to me all the time. I came in and you were crying. It was the moment the curtain was pulled back. You looked right at me and said “what if I have to leave you?”
Tiny footprints
Today was the day I capsized. Again. At this point its like my emptiness is swollen shut. Scabbed over and doused with enough social grace not to unload it on unsuspecting, ill-equipped listeners. All but those closest confidants are spared the ugliness of my feelings.
ACJ
I am afraid to write about this. So I will. Matt didn’t exactly want a third child. Not then at least. Picture it. New Year’s Day. 2011. I invited him to The Capital Grille for a boozy lunch. And I had an agenda. I bided my time, talking about this and that, and every so often gesticulating to the waiter to signify my desire for another round.
Sleeping giants
My father never once gave a speech he had written down on paper. He would never waste his time crafting a toast or whatnot because he truly believed that speaking from your heart was the only way to speak at all. I love this quote of his. And Daddy, this one is just so hard that I had to write it down. I’m sorry. But I want to do this for you and I need to get it right so forgive me for glancing at my notes.