Family.
Sigh.
Maybe I remember the better moments of life.
I don’t think so.
Then again I am far from a perfect person.
As anyone can judge from this missive from my cousin.
“I think of you all every day, unfavorably and with sorrow. It is, I suppose, kind of you to contact me but, sadly, too late, too little, too meaningless. I remember how I was there for you for Michael and for Angie. But you were not there for me following David’s suicide. A wonderful, joyful childhood, rich in cousinly play and adventure, evaporated into nothingness. Memories betrayed and made distant. Of the lot, only Gina retains any claim to ethical conduct.
Nevertheless, I wish you happiness and prosperity, as I would any stranger.”
I was her brother’s friend.
The Bishop and I played B-Ball together.
I spoke to him a week before his deciding to end it all.
I think about Davie all the time.
I am not a stranger.
Not to the Bishop.
