February 16, 2014
I’m using your first name because we met once, although you may not remember it. Your father brought me to dinner with you and your partner in Revere. It was a Sunday evening in late January or early February 1988. I was living in Newton then. You were beautiful and gracious, and it was a most hospitable meal. As I told him while we were driving back to Newton.
This is an extremely belated condolence letter. I learned only a few days ago that your father died last May. I am so sorry for your loss. It’s very hard when a parent dies. You become nobody’s child. Time slowly makes it easier. But the pain never really goes away.
I knew your father for such a long time, since the summer of 1948, that it was a shock to come across his obituary online. Although we last saw each other in 2006, when he came to lunch because I was leaving Massachusetts, I somehow thought he would always be there in the big house on Burnham Road, or at least as long as I’m around. I hope his leaving was easy, and without pain, and that some of his family – if not all of you — were with him.
He was a fine young man in the years I knew him best, and I’m sure he was a good man and caring father all his life. I do know he loved you, and your sisters and brother, very much.
My very best wishes,