Abe,
We traveled together to Rhode Island so I could attend my Pepere's funeral. It was our first trip together and we did well. On the flights north, you flirted with a volleyball player from California. She was sweet and lovely and couldn't keep her eyes off you. You showed her how to draw colorful lines with a ruler.
You spent many hours playing bongos, dulcimer and violin with Grandma Cynthia, while I attended wakes and such. You met dozens of cousins and aunts and uncles at the luncheon after the funeral. A well-timed walk in the hall netted you two little cars from attendees of a Hot Wheels convention. You set up on a small patch of marble floor and became the north star of a constellation of your family who zoomed cars with you. I liked hearing them talk to you, about toys and times different from the heavy days we'd all just had. When it came time to leave, you initiated group hugs that had as many as seven or eight of our family all clustered together, holding tight. I am humbled by your pure heart.
That night we took a canoe ride with Grandpa Eel and Grandma Carol. We explored the quiet corners of a salt pond near Wickford. We saw green and spider crabs, bait fish, swans and herons. You let hermit crabs walk on your hand and announced that they tickle. After the sun set we shined bright lights into the water and watched the sea creatures as they hustled to and fro. I have been wanting to take you on one of these nocturnal rides for a long time now. I wish I could raise this family at the edge of the ocean. To me it's the most alive place on Earth; there's always something amazing going on.
I loved the canoe ride, but the highlight to me was bedtime. We would lay down, heads close together and I would hold books about Olivia, a very willful little pig, over us like umbrellas. I would read stories you until the books sagged in my hands and we closed our eyes and drifted into well-earned sleep. Such a sweet, peaceful place to be at the end of such busy, emotional days.
Thank you for coming with me.
Pa-