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What a tough reminder, Gerard. Interestingly enough I was thinking about “last times” yesterday. As we’re getting older, there will be more and more last times. Which is appropriate, I think, since the first half of our lives is filled with “first times.” And the more first times we had, the more last times we’ll have.
Driving through downtown this afternoon, I realized I had already take my last drive on the viaduct and through the Battery Street tunnel quite a while ago. I loved the viaduct and the tunnel. Pretty soon it will be the last time for a lot of things that we’ve been doing for most of our lives.
On September 10th we said our prayers, climbed into bed, turned out the light, and went to sleep. I heard once that God made the world round so that we couldn’t see too far off into the distance.
The trick is to keep hope alive.
It was a beautiful day.
The first plane rattled our windows.
Nine hours was all my ill health would allow me, long enough for the heated ground to take the soles off my shoes. I’m looking at the box on the shelf I keep them in, unopened since that day. Others have told me they did the same.
You could smell the bodies baking. The “curious, sweet smell” pervaded the air for months.