Two freakin’ years.
You have got to be kidding me.
Papa handed me the check. I cashed it. Envelope overflowing with money. Most I’ve ever held.
Most I’ve ever spent. I handed it over and drove an iridescent Volkswagen Bug home. Mom and I were positively giddy on that ride back.
During the Eucharist at mass this morning, Oct. 14 (I’m not a usual churchgoer…I just happened to be at Mt. Irenaeus), I noticed an older gentleman go up for his share. He wore khaki pants and a checkered dress shirt. He hunched over just a tad.
My eyes were glued.
He reminded me so much of Papa.
Reminders of Papa do not crop up as often as they used to. I’m on year two; I’ve adapted. I get sad sometimes, but it’s not as overwhelming as it used to be.
I had to stare at the floor so nobody would notice my tears. My chin started to do its “I’M ABOUT TO CRY!” wobble and I bit my lip to halt it.
I’m in college. The only older gentlemen I see are friars and a few professors. How often do I see men in their 80s? It’s just not a daily thing anymore.
So it struck me. Especially on the day marking two years since the purchase of Bubbles.
I felt you today, Papa. Thank you.
Thank you for “The Bubble.”