September 27, 1994
"The general outlook is not that a person has died but that the person has lived."
William Buchanan - On writing obituaries in the Boston Globe.
Today was once a day of life and also a day of death. My father was born on this day in 1922. Although my grandpa Frawley died on September 26, 1057, his body wasn't found until the early morning hours of the 27th - and I was told of his death later that morning that my best friend in the whole world had died. Since then I have always remembered him on the 27th rather than on 26th because it was on this day my heart was broken - on this day part of me died.
From now on this will be a day of death, a day of remembrance - a day of prayers, yearning and sadness. In years past the unhappy memories of this day were always offset by the joy's of my dad's birthday - but this day is no longer one of celebration and merriment, of gifts and surprises. It has become a day with no present or future, only a past.
The only thing unwrapped today are the images of my final memories of life before death descended. I see my grandfather walking along the sidewalk, heading home from morning Mass, as I pedaled by him on my bicycle. And in the dim glow of a street light I see my father being lifted into an ambulance. During these two brief moments I never saw death lurking in the shadows - leering and ready to leap. There was no time for one final goodbye, one final kiss goodnight. Death has no manners. Death is morbid and merciless with no morality, and is under no obligation to provide a warning. So, all that I am left with are the images of life, the feelings of sorrow and the longing for love lost.
One of the unusual aspects of my life is that my grandfather and father are just two of only three men that I have ever deeply cared for and loved - the other is my uncle Frank. Although I had a few close male friends in high school and college as well as a few during my working years, I have always preferred the company of women to men - have always felt more open and at ease with women, from grammar school to the present. With my divorce I am now without female friendship and that has left me adrift and alone - for I miss the human touch and tenderness that only a woman can provide, from their smiles to the scent of their being.
Although I only knew my grandfather for just over eleven years, he has been a far greater influence in my life than my father. The downside to this influence is that for decades I have been burdened by his death, suffering from the silent sorrowful shadow of his suicide. I pray everyday that Casey and Kevy will never carry the burden of their Papa's death as I have my grandfather's. I have been suicidal since Anne killed herself but the twisted and tangled roots of this mental malady stretch and snarl their way back to this day in 1957. If their is a perfect day on which to die, today would be it.
My father and grandfather lived lives that I admire and they are part of whom I am today. Death does not diminish them - for as long as I live, they live within me. And if there is a heaven, the day will come when we are together - free of the burdens of life and death.
5:00pm - Brooks Library - Harwich, MA
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