*** The following evening, in his study, Tom pushed himself up from the chair, before moving his seventy-year-old frame slowly to the liquor cabinet. ...After taking out two glasses, he filled them both with Cognac. Then, carrying them carefully back to the desk, he set them down in a ceremonious manner, one beside the other. Settling into the chair again, he positioned himself behind one of the glasses, when the phone rang. ‘Tom?’ Ed spoke on the other end. ‘Hey Ed, you’re never late are you?’. Only now, forever...Another flash of memory.My mother, weeping at the kitchen sink, was holding a sheaf of medical papers in her hand. She stared at the papers as if they were a palpable enemy that she could rend, tear, or kill. Her tears were hard and angry – but soft, and almost helpless. Hindsight cleared up so much, and I now know the anguish she felt as the sterile, white forms pronounced her death sentence.For millennia I lingered in the valley of death. There were no shadows in that. More

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