Bocce

Yesterday made for an odd 4th of July for our family because it was our first without Popi. He'd not been with us for our family celebration the past two years due to deteriorating health, but even then we took the party to him. The first such effort he seemed to recognize and appreciate, while the second seemed to escape his largely expressionless stare. Alzheimer's is rarely forgiving, especially on holidays. The change was noticeable, yet he was still present in a way. In the past, Popi held center stage with his love for the great grandchildren, for food, and for our annual bocce tournament. More than anything else, he simply loved family being together.  When the center is removed, what normally revolved around it tends to wobble a bit while seeking out a new focus. When this happens, the whole thing appears out of sync, even slightly warped, like an old wooden tennis racket exposed to the elements. We pressed on this year and even persisted with the bocce tournament (naming it the Ury Armand Memorial Tournament), but we were conscious of the trying, and conscious trying carries with it an emotional strain all its own. The good news is that wobbling objects often right themselves, and, no doubt, so will our family. We will once again celebrate in rhythm with one another and become unaware of what makes being family work. Thank God for making families resilient, and for bestowing the gift of joy in spite of loss. Popi is remembered, and remembering keeps him with us. "Sharing tales of those we've lost is how we keep from really losing them" (Mitch Albom, "For One More Day").