Cormac's Letter

This was a writing excercise where we wrote a letter as character from a story. This is a letter from Cormac from Pete Hamill's Forever:

My dear son,

There is not a man alive that is older than your father. Unlike other men, in my case it's true. I was born in the 1700s in Ireland and I've made it here today, after everyone I've ever known has gone to the Otherworld.

You have my blood in you, the blood of the Celts, but alos of this city, that has been my home for over two hundred years. In you is the sweat that helped dig the subway you ride everyday. The grime under your fingernails is from the Revolution. Your drawings are mine and mine are yours. The food on the table was put there by Boss Tweed.

Aske me questions, my son. Ask for my story. You are the one I would tell it to. Ask about the ancient covenant of our people, who follow and avenge the murders of our fathers. As how I died and was reborn by otherwordly magic. Ask how I came to meet your mother, the woman I searched this granite island for for more years than Ic are to count.

After I leave for the Otherworld, take the sword that hangs on the wall and keep it always. Your grnadfather was a blacksmith in Ireland. He made it. I killed his murder with it. But you will be free of such a responsibilty since no man can kill me.

I saw Manhattan grow from a village into this city. I pulled your mother from the ashes of the towers. As me for my story, my son. It is the most valuable legacy I can give you.

Your father,
Cormac Samuel O'Connor

A Loss

It's so weird to lose someone you feel like you've already lost...though when my mother called me at 6:20 AM on Monday morning to tell me my grandmother passed, it was a surprise. It was a surprise and not a surprise, whoch is the weirdest thing...last I spoke to her, she was in too much pain to have a conversation and I hung up, promising I'd speak to her again soon.

That leads us to Monday morning and...yeah. But these last few month, she hadn't been the way I'd remember her...she was fragile and small and not at all the woman whose house I'd visit as a child or the woman who'd come to Israel only a few month before. She kept saying, "This isn't your grandmother." and as far as I was concerned, she knew what she was talking about...she didn't want to stay the way she was, she'd rather be gone...which we never liked hearing from her, but there it is.

If I had any doubt in my mind about the importance of the Jewish community, this experience has redoubled my belief in its importance. Whether it's congregants who don't really know us turning up for a shiva minyan or the Rabbi spending two hours with us, explaining the funeral procedure or the Sisterhood sending us a complete dinner, it's been really important through all of this.

We went to her place yesterday, but it was aplace she'd barely lived three weeks in and it didn't seem like it was hers. We took some of her things, and that was hard..but she's rather us have it instead of giving or throwing it away.

I will miss her.