A Day with Charlie

The easiest way to get around Boston today was on the MBTA, so I got to buy a Charlie Ticket, which is named for Charlie in an old Kingston Trio song.

I only rode the Red Line. First from the parking garage at Alewife to Harvard Square to meet my sister Maryann, who teaches English as a second language at the New England School of English.

Then to the Charles/MGH stop to visit my brother. We got there just in time to see my aunt Sigrid, who drove up from Connecticut for a short visit with Robbie, before she turned around and headed back home again.

Little by little the family gathered in Robbie's room--Mom and Dad, both of my sisters, and me. I looked at my brother, talked to him and touched his cheek. He opened his eyes just a bit. I thought about how much he looks like our Grandpa Charlie, which surprised me.

One of his doctors, a nurse, and a social worker asked us to meet with them in a conference room. We talked for a long time. His situation is deteriorating rapidly.

Dinner with the family nearby the hospital to talk some more about hard stuff. When the rest of the family headed home, my sister Maryann and I took the Red Line to Park Street. We were planning to go to a reading--a plan we had made before the serious talk with the doctor. After we got there, we decided our brains were much to scattered to focus on anyone else's stories.

We left and found a local coffee shop, ordered some hot chocolate, and hung out on a big leather couch talking, trying to process everything. It's all so surreal. I vacillate between rational thought and deep emotions that catch me off guard.

More than anything I want my brother to have peace.

When the coffee shop closed, we hopped back on the Red Line at Downtown Crossing and took it back to Alewife.