Today is very wet. Storms on the parkway on my way in. Water, water everywhere.
But that was nothing compared to the river of tears for the last two days. You see, I finished Kritzer Time.
I got up at 5 on Sunday morning, as is my wont, to do my weekly shopping when the stores are empty. I finished Chapter 8. Well, I already knew enough about BK's life from his writings here and under the Real A logo to know what was coming long before. That didn't stop the tears, oh no, that didn't stop the tears. And putting on the CD and listening to the last song on it three times in a row didn't stop them either. Somehow I managed to do the shopping.
Then Joe and I went to his sister's for the first time since his return from The Bad Place. While we were talking, he noticed a crucifix on the mantle and asked about it. "Oh, they put that in Mom's coffin, but they took it out before she was buried. Do you want it?" Holding it in his hands, Joe had to leave the room, embarrassed by his tears. Well, he's still haunted by the "boys don't cry" his father drilled in to him. I ignored that long ago and if I feel like tearing, I let 'er rip. I'm convinced a good cry, as well as a frequent good hearty laugh, is good for us, not just mentally, but physically as well. Joe: "I would never have believed I would accept a crucifix and cry over it."
Then, if that weren't enough, this morning I finished Kritzer Time. If you haven't finished the book,
BEWARE, SPOILERS FOLLOW!
From p. 318: "What good was Kritzer Time if it couldn't bring back Samantha Gilman?"
But it has, Bruce, it has. In the best way humanly possible. She now lives in the hearts of many people who never knew her, and, G*d willing, she will continue to live.