I heard today that your mother passed away.
My thoughts go out to her and to you.
I remember a day long ago when my dad came to pick me up after a boy scout troop meeting at the Congregational Church that was just behind your house. On the way home, he and I were talking about what had happened at the meeting, which is odd right there, because I've never been one to get talkative about stuff like that. (Ask my wife!) I remember clearly that I told him that there was a new kid who had joined the troop and that I hoped we got to be friends. The kid was you.
I have shockingly few memories of that time, even fewer that involve such vivid recollections of friends. And my connections to those few have faded to almost nothing. If I could recast the trajectory I've followed over these years, one of things I'd do differently would be to stay in touch better — close enough that I might be able to say something more than just "my thoughts go out to you".
But here we are. And they do.
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