I was back in southie, ‘‘the best place in the world,’’ as Ma used to say before the kids died. That’s what we call them now, ‘‘the kids.’’ Even when we want to say their names, we sometimes get confused about who’s dead and who’s alive in my family. After so many deaths, Ma just started to call my four brothers ‘‘the kids’’ when we talked about going to see them at the cemetery. But I don’t go anymore. They’re not at the cemetery; I never could find them there. When I accepted the fact that I couldn’t feel them at the graves, I figured it must be because they were in heaven, or the spirit world, or whatever you want to call it. The only things I kept from the funerals were the mass cards that said, ‘‘Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep. I am the stars that shine through the night,’’ and so on. I figured that was the best way to look at it. There are seven of us kids still alive, and sometimes I’m not even sure if that’s true. [download]
Format : Ebook.Pdf
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