I didn't know until today that Paul's mother died, and didn't know until I clicked backward that she passed away on St. Patrick's day. Familiar to me--the day my father died, the day my grandmother died. Now too when I remember them there will be a bright little patch of Paul's mom in my recollecting. I spend a lot of time recollecting on that day while the rest of America gets drunk.
Paul is there for his father, for whom the loss of a wife of nearly 54 years must be so very difficult. And now Paul's dad is in the hospital too.
Paul I send you some of the goodness I received virtually during my hospital adventure Tuesday, and some of my own prayers.
I never quite got that Irish thing anyway.