I have expressed to some of you the idea that the time surrounding someone's dying seems - well, liminal to me. The whole process is so profound, creates such a break with day-to-day life as we know (knew) it, that it doesn't even seem unreasonable to think that maybe, at around that time, certain things might happen . . . I conceptualize this as a brief moment, a brief time, when the newly-departed person gets some sort of fuller vision of the circumstances and motivations of the people they love, and they have a small window in which to impart something. At the risk of sounding entirely soft-headed, I have to say that I believe, on some level, that Jackie (who died the day before I interviewed) got me my current job.

So what's Emil, Sr's bequest? Well, the day Emil and I left Youngstown after his death, we stopped at the House of Erin, a hokey-looking Irish-o-phile shop we always pass on our way home from Y'town but had never patronized . . . and Emil found a low D tin whistle, marked 40% off. He couldn't read the tag, though, so he asked the salesperson what it said, and she replied, "$38." So he got the whistle for about $20 - which he later assured me was the bargain of the century; he was convinced it was mis-marked and should have been $138 . . . and, yeah, that's about the scale and shape that a liminal monetary bequest from Emil, Sr. would take. (Cheapskate that he was.) (I'm reminded of another story, the buildup to which completely eludes me, but the action involves Emil, Sr, and one of his brothers surreptitiously changing price tags on some item in some store before they bought a mass quantity of said item . . . when I looked scandalized, he told me, "Marcy, believe me. As much money as they make, we're not hurting them.")

But the emotional bequest, well. That one could be much grander, much more far-reaching. Somehow, some way, recently Emma and I have found a way to talk honestly with each other, and I'm putting that down to Grandpa. Somehow, I hear and feel him saying to me, "Be honest. Be yourself. Look life in the eye, and walk in your own skin."

We'll see what plays out from that. But boy, at the moment, it sure feels good.