6. I wrote a bad poem about Theodore a while ago:
Just seeing the font
brought tears to my eyes
knowing there was no
large little child there,
the end of the pew,
waiting to dip hand
into the Water
meant for Asperges.
7. Fifteen dollars in my pocket is burning a hole in it. This is money we placed in Theodore's folder, probably money from birthday cards. I still have to distribute the two dollar bills my grandparents would send to my children. Theodore had ten in his folder. I shall distribute them to his siblings. I even found two savings bonds which I shall have to cash in. Theodore never had any use for money, and now he needs it even less. While trying to think of something to do with the fifteen dollars, I was reminded of a line from A Canticle for Leibowitz(sort of reviewed HERE):
"That was the year of the unprecedented torrent of rain on the desert, causing seed long dry to burst into bloom....the year that the monks of the Albertian Order of Leibowitz buried an abbot and bowed to a new one. There were bright hopes for tomorrow."
Our house is a domestic church, and Theodore is the first member of the family to die after walking on this earth. As the temporal head of this church, I have to see to the distribution of Theodore's possessions, beginning with his body and ending with his death certificate. Fifteen dollars is just a small thing to dispose of.
Our own torrent of rain and a few weeks without mowing have given us a lawn full of little yellow flowers which open in the morning, follow the trajectory of the sun, and close as the sun sets.