May 2002
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May 9 I've been having a couple of e-mail exchanges this evening that went straight to the core of Becky. One correspondent and I were discussing families, and the age-old point came up about not judging until you walk a mile in the other person's shoes, regarding how family members treat each other. In the other case, one topic was grief. And Lord knows I know a whole lot about that. In that one, I also touched on some of what my life has been like in the past twelve years or so. Both sets of correspondence served to remind me of things. And the memories stirred up left me weeping. At the risk of sounding terribly self-pitying, I'll tell you it was hard as all hell to be in the position I was in back in late 1990 and early 1991. I had to interrupt life as I knew it to go deal with a whole set of circumstances about which I knew virtually nothing, especially in terms of selecting after-hospital care for my mother, and trying to make things work out. For reasons I don't want to discuss tonight I wound up giving up my job in Chapel Hill and going to Mother's home to oversee things there. It is sufficient to say that decision was not made lightly. I know there were people who questioned that decision, and other decisions regarding Mother. But I also know something much more powerful than anything they thought: I know I was doing the very best that I could, under whichever set of circumstances was true at the time. I can live with myself about each and every decision that I made. And that's the bottom line.