Somehow Carol and I came into contact through MyLife before I entered Facebook. She asked to be friends with me and told me that we had very briefly dated in Freshman year of Somerville High School. I remember kissing her goodbye on the corner of Davenport Street after a Friday night high school football game. Now I remember! We volunteered together at the snackbar one of those Friday nights. I loved that evening serving hot dogs and hot chocolate. All the kids working were so jovial. It was like a party serving the fans. It was as if we were also part of the football game, like the cheerleaders and the school band. Truthfully, I don't know what happened after that kiss. I know that she walked home with her friend, since she lived in Somerville and we (I don't know who was the friend with me) returned to Branchburg in someone's parent's car. The letters are important for bringing back to life an multi-faceted experience and the question, "what else was going on at the time?" 26-years-ago and 4 years ago. I totally forgot that she had so many surgeries and that she was suffering at the time. We became so immersed in the intensity of our business and economic concerns that I must have become disconnected with her, although I invited her to Facebook.
A great part of my mother's destiny clearly is the caring for people with illnesses hospitalized or not that began with the schizophrenia of her mother and the alcoholism of her father, caring after her younger brother, my Uncle Henry, when she was at least 10-years-old. Then she had to care after my father for less than a year, then me and my younger sister. She spent time with my father's older brother Stan the times he was hospitalized for his heart surgeries, was faithful to my cousins Seth and Elise when they had their colons removed. Not long after marrying Bruce, Bruce was diagnosed with Prostate Cancer if I am correct and then was hospitalized for something else. For many years now, my mother works in a hospital caring for people who with mortal illnesses waiting for death, offering counceling to them and their family members. My mother on the other hand has never been ill, never had a surgery, never been in the hospital for more than giving birth to her 3 children and for being extremely faithful to those whom she cares about. That's part of her life work.
I'm on the other side. I love offering moral support to those who are ill, but from personal experience. So, reading these letters, because there are the letters that Carol wrote me, I am just so disappointed in having lost track of our communications and in having forgotten about what had happened and was happening in her life. I write this because it's all part of the crazy complex experience of life that should cause us to think and not cause us to shut down our minds.