Two years of “The Bubble”

Two years.

Two freakin’ years.

You have got to be kidding me.


Papa handed me the check. I cashed it. Envelope overflowing with money. Most I’ve ever held.

Most I’ve ever spent. I handed it over and drove an iridescent Volkswagen Bug home. Mom and I were positively giddy on that ride back.


During the Eucharist at mass this morning, Oct. 14 (I’m not a usual churchgoer…I just happened to be at Mt. Irenaeus), I noticed an older gentleman go up for his share. He wore khaki pants and a checkered dress shirt. He hunched over just a tad.

My eyes were glued.

He reminded me so much of Papa.

Reminders of Papa do not crop up as often as they used to. I’m on year two; I’ve adapted. I get sad sometimes, but it’s not as overwhelming as it used to be.

I had to stare at the floor so nobody would notice my tears. My chin started to do its “I’M ABOUT TO CRY!” wobble and I bit my lip to halt it.

I’m in college. The only older gentlemen I see are friars and a few professors. How often do I see men in their 80s? It’s just not a daily thing anymore.

So it struck me. Especially on the day marking two years since the purchase of Bubbles.


I felt you today, Papa. Thank you.

Thank you for “The Bubble.”

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