An old boyfriend called yesterday. I called him first to tell him that my father died. We were a couple from 1979 until January of 1987 and we spent great deal of time with my father and stepmother. I knew that he’d want to know as he admired my father and really enjoyed being around him. My father liked him, too. They shared a deep and abiding interest in books and literature and both attended UCLA (at different times of course). 

I wasn’t sure if my old boyfriend would call me back. I called him after 9/11 just to check in and share what had just happened. We spoke briefly and he promised to call back but never did.

This time he called back. We had a very nice conversation. My old boyfriend is a deep and wise fellow. Ten years older than me, our conversations were often complex and far reaching. His words of comfort yesterday were comforting.

"I think we have memories because it’s so hard to vanish from one another," he said quietly.

"That’s really well said," I said.

"I guess. I think a lot about these thing," he told me.