I
have been meditating on the challenges of being close to people who matter to
you when you’re half a world away from them. Even with all the incredible
technology we have in telecom and internet, I find that physical distance is
real and palpable. Skype is a modern miracle for which I am very grateful, but
it is a far cry from relating in person, certainly not the same as sharing space
with another. Making true, warm human contact with friends and family is a challenge here in Indo. It may be the
main downside of being away like this.
Before
now, I have never spent the holidays away from my family and friends. So this
year feels very weird. And while I have been called “Scrooge” because I think we have made Christmas so terribly commercialized and needlessly stressful, still I am
missing loved ones a little more at the moment because I’m in no way “home for the holidays.”
One
thing I can do is use this blog to
tell you: I love and miss you all, and I wish you wonderful holidays, with many
blessings for the coming year. Thank you for your support and being in touch
while I’m away. I carry you all in my heart. And a special mistletoe kiss to my
beautiful wife, who is excellent in every way :) (sorry, baby--- no bling this
year…)
On
a sad note, two relatives passed on very recently. In giving condolences to
their family, I felt this same sense of insurmountable distance. Dropped cell
phone calls and e-mails do not help when it comes to giving comfort or
expressing sorrow. But I do want to acknowledge these two special men here.
My dad’s youngest brother, my Uncle Domenic or
Mimi, was a good man, sweet and kind. He was a stone worker, I believe, and devoted
to his family. I remember him mostly from childhood, when he spoke to us kids
in soft and understanding tones. He was easy to be with, and always had a great smile on his face. My
cousin Anthony e-mailed me first that Mimi was in hospice, then soon after that
to say he had passed on. He enjoyed a good long life; he was 95 years old.
Cousin Ray has always been very close to our family. When I was a kid, Ray
worked as a teenager at The Scoop, the local soda fountain and candy store near
my house in Queens. I knew him for over 46 years. An incredibly warm and caring
man, Ray looked in on anyone who was sick or needed him. He was straight,
strong, real Old School Italian in the best sense, and completely dedicated to family. He
battled pancreatic cancer for years, but never talked about it or complained. In fact, he made it clear that he didn’t "want to see puppy dog eyes;” that was his way of saying he refused to be
pitied. Being with Ray was never about him; it was always about you. We all
loved him, saw him often, and kept in close contact. As time went on, we watched with alarm as
Ray got weaker and weaker from disease and treatment. Through it all, he showed amazing
strength and resilience. Most importantly, he continued to live his life on his
own terms. The man had character with a capital “C.” I called Ray and Annette
before I came out here. I am so glad I did. During our minutes on the phone, he
was warm and easy-going and wished me a good adventure. I’m welling up now
thinking about it. RIP Ray.
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