January 20th

Little sweetheart, today is the Inauguration. 

I can’t tell you how relieved everyone is here. Sylvia texted from France even before I was awake and I’ve been texting with your folks since I’ve been up shortly thereafter. We’re all watching the ceremonies, the “virtual parade”, the signing of executive orders, the swearing in of staff, the evening’s concert, as the page finally turns on these awful four years. 

We’ve so much work to do, little sweetheart, and the pandemic is really perhaps at its most deadly just now. But vaccination has begun (including your dad!) and even as we brace ourselves, still hunkered down in early winter, we can feel some glimmer of hope. 

I’ll be saying quiet prayers in just an hour or two as I lay down at the end of the night. Please be near me, won’t you? 

With all my love forever.
 

Upon This Therme

Little sweetheart, surely I’ve said this before within these pages and further echoing what I said the other day about your enduring goodness, I must repeat it here.

The news is so troubling. I can’t avoid it entirely and it is of some import to know a bit of what’s going on but to also know when to stop taking in so much awfulness because it can drive one to despair.

So, to your goodness and… watching The West Wing.

Some might think that’s an obvious haven, a somewhat utopian vision of a good government to retreat to in fiction when the real life one we’re having to endure is as reprehensible as it is. But I have a deeper connection because you gave it to me, You brought West Wing to me, famously lending me the Serafin box set of the first four seasons and proudly telling your mother you had done just that. Just hearing the theme sing each night brings me to tears because it so perfect conjures you and, as I say in a ringing refrain - your enduring goodness. How I love you!

Please help and guide me today and every day, little sweetheart.

With all my love forever.

Valentines, Pt 2

Our second Valentines together was the very next year when your Dad very generously invited a large group of extended family and friends to share a big beautiful house in Lake Tahoe for Valentines Weekend - what we came to call the vacation when “we went to the snow”.

Everyone was coming from different places - your parents from Yuba City, your brother and his friends from Portland, Michelle and the kids from Roseville and us from San Francisco - and meeting there.

Everyone else got up there ahead of us because you had a class to teach downtown at ACT’s Young People’s Conservatory that afternoon. We’d been walking along down there on the way to one of your classes earlier that week when I saw something catch your eye in the window at Macy’s. So, I made a note of it and that afternoon - when I was meant to pick you up from class so we could begin the long drive straight from there to Lake Tahoe - I stopped in first and bought it for you. It was a pretty top and bottom set of pink polka dot lingerie set against a black background. You loved it! I gave it to you in the car.

We soon hit a lot of snow driving through the mountains, We were listening to the first Bon Ivor album over and over. We’d just got it the week before and we were singing along to one another. We stopped for gas and when we went in to pay, looked around for a snack or two. I was getting myself a coffee, when I saw a pair of Valentines sunglasses -  pink and white with hearts on the frames. I bought them for you and embarrassed you a little when I said to the cashier, breathlessly, “isn’t she (you!) the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen!”

You are and always will be, my little sweetheart. My heart is so full this morning thinking of you.

(sweet) Surrender

I wonder, little sweetheart, if this is something I’ve already told you, but the day I was finally released from the hospital last May, when Sylvia and your Mom helped me into a cab and then settled themselves into the front and back seats, too, and we pulled away from the curb there, I rolled down the window, relived and grateful to be alive and finally going home.

As we turned right heading toward Columbus, we passed The Cathedral of Saint John the Divine and as I breathed in the warm, fresh spring air, the first I’d had in my lungs in nearly a month, I could hear the sweetest choir of birdsong serenading me and I began to cry.

Later, as we drove southbound for home and Columbus turned into Ninth Avenue past W59th Street, I heard a song come on the radio from the front seat. The driver had it tuned to a popular rock station. It was an old anthem by Cheap Trick, “Surrender”. The guitars and the ending chorus chanting “we’re all alright” had me singing along and Sylvia, who was sitting next to me, took my hand, smiling, and said “don’t get too excited”, still worried about my heart after it had stopped beating for ten minutes during my pulmonary embolism just five days before.

I never had a particular attachment to that song before but now whenever I hear it my mind returns to that moment, as it did today in physical therapy. I was finishing the last of my exercises, wrapping up a two hour session and interrupted it briefly to go into the office and tell the chief therapist, Todd Bryson (you would so like him, little sweetheart), the story. I mentioned all I’ve just said to you here, little sweetheart, and added that there I was, hobbled, in a sling, both legs attached to  hoses, wound vacs, a cane across my lap. And he said “and look at you now”, very kindly encouraging my progress.

It’s been quite an ordeal, little sweetheart. And I’m grateful to your parents and to dear dear Sylvia - my goodness, there’s no one quite like her, so lovely and generous and fierce and good. You two are of the same stripe, little sweetheart. I know you know that and, indeed, knew it well before me. I suspect you brought her and I toward each other.

As in all things. I’m so grateful for you. Surrender, indeed. We’re all alright. And we will truly be so again in The Forever. Isn’t that right? 

With all my love forever.

Today

Little sweetheart it's Valentines Day. I make sure to send you roses each year and did again today, with this little card (below). Love you forever.

My dearest darling Summer, 

Happy Valentine's Day, little sweetheart. 
I'm so grateful for you. You have filled my heart and my life with light and love.
You are my treasure, forever 

With all my love, 

Your Michael

A Reading Tonight

It's Holy Week, little sweetheart, and I'm attending a few of the services at that little church I've told you about. Tonight, being Wednesday, is the night there's usually a candlelight meditation service and there was one. A kind of specifically-themed one.

Many of the readings (both scared and secular) and prayers were in the Easter vein - sort of presaging Good Friday.

They asked me to read one of the poems. Christpower by John Shelby Spong. I remember it from last year. I'd actually saved it, as it was printed in the bulletin, and taped it to the wall in the kitchen.

There's an excerpt from it I'd like to share you with you, my little sweetheart. It's here:

"... If we die, shall we live again?
Does that which is my most true self
Transcend the reality of death?

Love transcends death,
And if love does,
So also does life;
For life -
Real life -
Is always the child of love.

If love has entered a person's life,
Touched his being,
Lifted her beyond her limits,
Given him a glimpse of life's deepest meaning,
Nothing
Can separate her from its transforming power;
And
Life lived in this power
Does live again and will live again.

Death
Will only be a barrier that
Can be pressed and
Overcome. "

I can't know the hour or the means, little sweetheart, but I have faith that you are and have always been. And that I will be with you again and forever.

Until that day, please be close and help and guide me. I love you with all my heart and soul.

74f

Little sweetheart, it's incredibly, unseasonably warm today. It's late February and it's in the 70's! 78 here in the city was the high today. Right now it's still 74f. A few days ago we had snow. A few from now it's going to be in the 30's.

But today, it's like June. And I did something that made me think of you and make me wish we had done it together. I went out to Coney Island.

Everything's closed out there because, well, because it's the middle of the winter. The amusement park and all the stalls and little shops on the boardwalk are closed. And so are the beaches or at least the waters - you're not supposed to go swimming and there are no lifeguards present. But it was sunny and warm and more than a few people were out. I strolled along the boardwalk and then remembered how you would tell me to make sure I had sunscreen on, so I sat on a bench and applied a bit and then put my hat back on and just watched people walking by for quite a while.

Later, I went down to the water and walked along the shore on the sand and eventually up and out the end of one of the piers. I tried to think of the last time I was out there and I think it must've been 20 years ago. You were probably still in high school!

I really wish we could have a day like this together, little sweetheart. Maybe take a little lunch with us and have a picnic. I remember you telling me that you had a hamper for just such an outing.

I don't know what time is, my darling, my gorgeous girl, but I suspect that you know much more about it and how it works. I hope and pray that it is so much more elastic and accessible once we're on the other side. Once I'm returned to you. Maybe then we can do all kinds of things. All the things we talked about and planned and even more.

I pray for that every day - to be returned to you, my little sweetheart, And to have all the time in the world so we never have to worry again. We'll always be together. Always. How I long for that day. With all my love forever... xM

A New Month and things to say but first...

It's a new month, little sweetheart and I've lots to tell you - I've written some down already - but first I just want to say that the single is ready to go and it will feature both your vocals and this pretty picture of you that you took and sent me yourself to model the little onyx pendant I got you for your birthday. See below! So, more soon and I love you forever.

Yours

In Golden Gate Park near the windmill on a beautiful day seven years ago, little sweetheart. You wanted to go for a walk so we headed out from your apartment in the Inner Sunset, wending our way along, jumping a fence or two, because: You, very much taking our time until you had to pee and then finding a porta-loo outside a construction site, that you braved while I stood guard, before venturing back into the wilds. Later, we paused here in these beautiful gardens, sitting on the lawn. I took a few pictures of you and then, as ever, you snatched the phone out of my hands and shot this little video. I'm the one cooing absurdly, love-drunk, off camera. Afterwards we continued to the ocean and went to a nice little place overlooking the beach for dinner. A little trio was playing and when they struck up "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" I held your hand across the table and cried and cried. The sun set as we sat there and when we got up to leave it was dark and had begun to rain. We ducked under an awning near the visitor's center and called a cab, getting out at 9th, so we could could grab a movie from Le Video, and walked between the raindrops together the rest of the way home. We dried off, got in our pj's and curled up together, one of your favorite things, you had told me - watching a story at the end of the day with your partner. My heart swelled with pride to be called yours. A wonderful, magical day with you, little sweetheart. Yours, yes, my darling girl. Yours forever.

Sunday - You Are In My Heart

Little sweetheart, I was the guest liturgist today at that little church I've told you about. I don't go on Sundays nearly as often as I go to the little Wednesday night candlelight ones but last Wednesday that nice young lady I told you about asked if I could be the reader this week, so I said yes.

There were two passages to read, one from Exodus and the other from Matthew. The second of them made me think so much of you and you were in my heart as I spoke these words:

"...Come to me all you that are weary and carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls..."

You are the great gift, the shining light of my life, little sweetheart. You are my beacon and my guiding star.

When I speak words like this or hear the beautiful melodies that conjure you, I'm so filled with emotion  - with love and longing, sadness and gratitude.

I don't know why I yet live, my darling. All I want in the whole world is just to return to you, to be at your side. I know I must wait. I know I must be patient and quiet myself and listen for your guidance and presence. Please help me be the man you want me to be, little sweetheart. Make me worthy of you.

And, please, my love, take me to you the moment heaven will allow. With all my love forever.

A Song I Heard Today

Little sweetheart, on Fridays I often listen to a show on WFMU that plays a lot of bands featuring female vocalists (like you!). And today the DJ, Sheila, played a wonderful song by a band called Elizabeth City State (Elizabeth is a town in NJ) that made me think so much of you it made me cry. Its lyrics mirror exactly how I feel about you - the only one who ever saw and understand me, how I hurt I was, and came into my life and loved me like no one could but you.



It's late-February here but it's warm today and I have the windows open. Sometimes when the breeze is coming in on a warm day like this I can feel, can sense you in the air.



Please be near me, my little sweetheart. Please let me know you are with me, Summer, my darling girl. Help be all you want of me. And take me to you as soon as heaven will allow. Love you forever. Forever!

Love

Little sweetheart, since the rather shocking and dispiriting election results last week, people have been leaving post-its - those little sticky notes - of love and solidarity on the walls of the Union Square subway station along the tunnel between the N/R and 4/5/6 train platforms. There are thousands of them there now. I went yesterday and left one for you, my darling. And then I shot this little video. So many people were stopping to do the same and as I stood there a group of tiny schoolchildren under the watchful care of their teacher, sang. It is very much as you taught me, little sweetheart - Love conquers all. Love you forever.

About Today...

Little sweetheart, today is the 10th anniversary of the passing of your beloved big brother Jesse. I never got to know him because his shocking, inexplicable passing came the year before I met you. But I know how very very dear he was to you and how he touched everyone's life who he did meet so profoundly. Three things just off the top of my head that I am thinking about today regarding him are these stories that you yourself told me.

1) His prominently displaying a picture of you in his college dorm room freshman year and proudly telling anyone who asked that that was his baby sister (to great swooning among the coed's, I'm given to understand).
2) You and your mom attending one of his oral arguments at trial and he so comfortable with his summation that at one point he was leaning causally on the bench, possibly to the judge's slight annoyance.
3) That before he proposed to Michelle, he first told you and in so doing gave you a ring also...

Like I said, these are just the three that first come to mind. From the moment you began to share yourself with me (luckiest boy ever), you spoke with adoration and admiration for your beloved Jesse and for your mom and dad. I know the two of you are right over a shoulder, just around a corner. And that We'll All Will Be Together soon and forever.

I had a wonderful dream a little while ago that you and Jesse were in the kitchen at your parents house. I rushed to you the moment I saw you and collected you in my arms. Jesse, who I'd only just met, started easing me a little, but then saw how frightened I was to let go of you and then you and he and your mom all gently assured me that it was okay - no one was ever going away ever again.

I know you two are together today and looking in, closer than I can imagine. How I long to fly to you! With all my love....

We Must Be Kind

Little sweetheart, I was watching a documentary the other night on Netflix. It's about the 60's and an entire segment of it was about JFK. There was an enormous amount of footage I had never seen before and one sequence has stayed with me now for days. It's news reports from the streets on New York as people listen to car and portable radios, gathered around on the sidewalk trying to hear news after word has come out the President has been wounded in Dallas.

There's a very kind, shy and altogether lovely older woman there among them who the reporter approaches. She's listening with such quiet care and worry, my little sweetheart, and the reporter asks her what she thinks. She says something very quietly, terribly concerned and then, full of love, unguardedly, unexpectedly, exclaims "we have the same birthday!" And then smiling through her fears, "I'm just crazy about him."

Moments later in the film, after they've shown the famous sequence when Cronkite confirms the President's passing, they cut back to the street scene where the same news is coming over the car radio. That same crowd is gathered around and that nice old lady is close by too. At that moment as the news can be heard, there is a collective gasp, and the poor lady reels backward, literally jumping, as though she's been struck. She shrinks back into the thick of the crowd on the sidewalk, surrounded yet all alone, so very alone, and weeps.

My little sweetheart, people are good. People are so very lovely and kind and excited in wonderful guileless ways about things that touch their lives. And we are all so terribly terribly fragile. You taught me so much, my darling. And this is one of those things. We must be kind. In every way we can, with every chance we get, we must be kind to one another. We're all hurting. And we simply must be kind. And when we do show kindness, our hearts are one - mine flies to you, feels your touch and I know I will be with you forever because in that instant I am.

That nice lady, so very hurt, broken with sorrow, inconsolable -my heart goes out to her too in this moment captured before we were even born. I think it's meant to. Maybe she's even passing you by as I write this. Maybe wherever we go we feel it when someone, even someone we've never known, thinks of and feels for us. May it be so. May I love the way you taught me to, the way you taught and grew my heart. May we love one another. Love has no limits. It is boundless. May I act in love. I know it redounds to and reaches you.

Give that lovely woman a hug for me, little sweetheart. Tell her that your sweetheart, Michael, was just telling you about her. That he's so sorry. And that it's a little bit late - or maybe not because what is time? I know you know now. Maybe it's all going on all the time - but that he sends all the comfort and understanding and love in the world to her and all through you. Because you taught me, didn't you, little sweetheart? You showed me love. Until that day. Until that day! With love forever...

Don't Panic, pt. 2

One of my favorite memories of your first visit here, little sweetheart, is how when we woke up late the day you had to fly back - because my alarm didn’t go off - that you didn’t panic, but calmly gathered your things in record time while I agitatedly called quickly for car service (instead of our plan to take the Air Train). You were smiling and calm when I was afraid you would be so mad and blaming me. I have a lot of broken places inside, my little sweetheart. Even more now than you can imagine because I long for you so. I had so many broken places then because people weren’t always very nice to me, little sweetheart. And I think I was often tensing up expecting to be berated or belittled or told that I was wrong. But you were fine, so fine that morning, my darling. You didn’t let something unexpected ruin the end of our first glorious full week together alone here in New York. And soon the driver called up, we went downstairs, climbed in back and cuddled all the way to JFK, where, as would always be the case, I cried my eyes out at your leaving, even though I knew I’d be seeing you in three weeks time (in London!).

There were plenty of times when either of us could meltdown, could get upset over something less than earth shaking. There were plenty of times when you might throw yourself dramatically face first onto a bed full of pillows crying in frustration. And I would always do my best to talk us through it, find a solution, comfort you, fix it. That face first pillow plant full body flop was such a signature move of yours, I can recall its practition over numerous beds in numerous different cities across separate timezones.

The last one I remember was when you opened your MacBook Air and the lid literally came off in your hand. As I tried to sooth you immediately post pillow plant, you cried out “I can’t have sex for three hours right now! That won’t help!” I still remember us laughing later about that now. At the time and after some time and calm talking, I got us on the phone with the Apple Store and we got an appointment and drove down there where they looked it over, told you they could fix it overnight and that we wouldn’t have to pay. You kept asking, like several times, how much it was going to cost. Finally the Apple guy turned to me, smiling, pleasantly. “Will you please tell her to take yes for an answer?” he said. It’s free, I told you, little sweetheart. You’re still under your three-year Apple Care Plan. “Oh, it’s free?” Yes, sweetheart. “Who paid for that?”. I don’t know, sweetheart, maybe your dad when he gave it to you? But it’s free. Problem finally solved, we walked around the rest of the shopping center. You saw some socks - of all things! - that you thought were cute, so I quickly bought them for you before you could say no. Then, we looked for a nice place to have dinner.

We both could be emotional. Ha! That is certainly the understatement of the nascent century. I myself am entirely prone to hysterics. I can feel you nodding emphatically in agreement from here, little sweetheart.  You and I could unquestionably get derailed by something entirely marginal and not be able to unwind ourselves for some time or without the diligent, calming help of one another, but you taught me so much. You still do. And, unlike anyone I have ever known, whenever things did get really bad, whenever it really counted, you could always be counted on. You never let me down when I really needed you or even when I desperately needed but didn’t even know or could articulate or even ask for what was required. Every time there was real adversity you were there instantly, expertly, selflessly, totally and without judgement. With love and care and support and unbending, unending presence. You never fail me. God, how I love you, my little sweetheart. And I always will.

Plantlife...

4 months ago as I was leaving my grief counselor's office, I saw a little discarded green cutting in the wastebasket. I retrieved and carried it home, putting it carefully into a water glass where I've been nursing it ever since. Roots began to spring forth and finally, today, I cautiously planted it in a little pot, with pebbles at the bottom, gently packing potting soil around it, slightly untangling the knot of roots and finally watering with a steady mist from a spray can. I've never done anything like this before, little sweetheart. But I hope in all these years of Monday afternoons, weeping and speaking of you in that little room, that bringing this small leaf stem back to life brings me closer to you and where you are. Lets me feel your hand in all this from the closer-than-I-can-imagine Forever. With all my love...

Prayers, as ever

Today is All Souls Day, my little sweetheart and I am sending prayers on this day, and every day, to and for you. May you be safe and under the care of Love in The Beautiful New Place. And may I join you in the Forever, very very soon. With all my love...

In My Life...

I’m waiting, like everyone, more than a little impatiently, little sweetheart, for spring to come. It’s still bitter and blustery, even as the sun tries shyly to poke his head around the clouds and cheer things up a bit. It’s Monday and although she’s at a conference this week and we’re not meeting, it is usually my day to see the woman who’s been counseling me since your passing. She’s all the way over on the Upper East Side and there’s no good way of getting there better than walking. It’s a nice walk, especially in clear weather. I walk up past Columbus Circle to Lincoln Center before heading east through the park, past Sheep Meadow, down the steps to Bethesda Fountain, turning at the Boathouse toward the Lagoon and back up to the street on the other side just before reaching the playground there at 5^th Avenue in the East 70’s. That last stretch is a little curve, my sweetheart, a kind of pedestrian intersection of two divergent paths with park benches around the periphery – the perfect spot for buskers, for street musicians, to set up camp. There haven’t been many braving the harsher elements these past few brutal months, but I find myself thinking today of a pair of them I came across on my weekly trek once last spring. Most of the year there had been a young guy there paying muted trumpet over a backing track of classical accompaniment on a boombox. He’d solo over the top of it. You could hear him from a good distance and, even muted, needed to steer not too close as you passed up toward the street rounding the corner. I got used to the routine. But this day, I think it might’ve been in June, I heard instead, guitars and singing. I was a bit disappointed, to be honest, at first. As I got closer I recognized the song. It was a couple - a kind of young hippie-ish looking guy and girl, him on guitar, her on fiddle – singing The Beatles’s In My Life. The harmonies were sweet and spot on but what really impressed me as I drifted past was how they tackled the bridge – him earnestly downstroking through the chords in rhythm, her navigating every tricky turn of the harpsichord solo. On violin! I looked back from the corner, stopping to hear them finish the song – their angelic voices together, their earnest, unspoiled faces, him beaming, she the picture of concentration – and I turned and walked back.  I put a fiver in the open guitar case and said “that was fucking great.” I think that startled them at first. But then I saw their look of surprise turn to gratitude and friendliness. “Thank you”, he said as she nodded a bit shyly at his side. And ya know what, sweetheart? I never would have been able too see any of this if it weren’t for you bringing such a gift of love to my life. You grew my heart, my darling. You taught me what love is. What love can do. What love can truly be. True Love. And in these moments, my little sweetheart, I so strongly feel you with me. In my life, indeed…  

Grateful

Someone asked me to name five things that I love about myself. I wasn’t too sure I could think of even one but then…

1) I love that I knew almost immediately that you were the most important thing.

2) I love that knowing that, I didn’t have even a second thought about throwing over anything that might come between us, much less a continent.

3) I love that if I’m quiet, I can still feel, see and nearly touch our lost life.

4) I love that however lost and ruined I am with your passing that there remains a stubborn hope inside me that something beautiful may still happen before I leave the earth, too, and join you.

5) I love that even as I draw breath in the pain of loss, of grief, that I unexpectedly feel love grow randomly, anew in my heart for others.

All That You Taught Me, My Sweetheart...

My sweetheart, I've been meaning to post this for a while. Back in May, I heard from the daughter of an old friend of mine that she was about to graduate from High School. I sent her a small gift and this letter in which I try to relate as best I can the very important things that you, my true love, taught me: 

May 28, 2014

Thank you so much for sending me the announcement about your graduating high school. That’s terrific news and a fine achievement. Congratulations!

I know your parents are very proud of you. I know they always are. I grew up with your dad and met your mom shortly thereafter when we were all twenty-somethings in DC. I’ll do my best here not to say anything embarrassing about them and I think I’m on firm ground in simply saying that they could hardly wait until you and your brother came into the world. Your mother in particular was over the moon at the thought of your arrival. And even though, strangely (the world is strange), you and I have never met, I’ve seen little glimpses of your growing up through the years of family Christmas cards and in the eyes of your parents, full of love and pride for you.

I won’t go on too long here. I just want to say something I hope might be of nominal resonance on this occasion. Grown ups are always fumbling for a word of wisdom to pass along, never more so than on a day like today. Please forgive us. We mean well. When your dad and I graduated, I remember, we were rather underwhelmed by these same sort of remarks. It was a hot day and the event was held on the football field. I think more than a few us had nothing but our swim trunks on beneath our cap and gowns, keen to get the whole thing over with, have a dip in a neighbors pool and drink a million underage beers. The commencement speaker was the local Circuit Court judge and I think we actually thought he might not be too bad but something got lost on the way to podium and he didn’t exactly inspire. At a key point in his speech, he challenged us to “remember two words”. Mingo Guana, our classmate and all-around not-so-wiseass, shouted out “Guilty!”, to general laughter and uproar. It was stupid as hell -the judge did say “two words”, after all- and somehow perfect.  Judge Whatshisname wrapped things up- his two words were “thank you”, remember to say “thank you” as you go through your life (a perfectly good directive, not terribly stirring, maybe, but…) – caps flew in the air (except for our friend Kris – you may have met him – who tore off his gown and tossed that instead) and everyone went on their way, merry or otherwise.

I hope your own Commencement comes off a bit better. I suppose you could do worse. But I hope. So, I’ll wrap up my own remarks here and let you get on with it, right after this brief, humble effort to improve on what an earlier generation tried to foist upon your dad and I.

Boneheaded bonhomie notwithstanding, Mingo was almost right – we should be able to get it down to one word. And I have one in mind. It’s “love”.

Love. Let it be your guide. Find what you love and build your life around it. Do the thing, the things, that make you happy. Do what you love. Find love. Give love. Live in love. Live for love. Hold those you love to you with all your might. In Shakespeare’s words, “grasp them to you with hoops of steel”. As our lives unfold, we find ourselves met with enormous challenges, difficulties, sometimes far more than we think we could ever bear.  Moments of great giddy joy comingled with heartaches and disappointments. Mistakes we may have a hard time ever forgiving ourselves for. But whatever may, I promise you, Grace, the one thing none of us will ever regret is having loved too much. Or too often. Or with too open of a heart. Love. Deep into my life now, there are few things I can say I know with certainty. But for this: we are here to love.

Congratulations to you, dear friend. May good fortune attend your every endeavor. With love…

Yours,

Michael Louis Serafin-Wells

New York City