I don't even have a good reason why I liked Hitchens' work; I just do. Actually, one of life's more interesting moments came about when discussing him. I was at an event sponsored by the respected Acton Institute, and I mentioned that I respected him and liked to read him. You'd think I killed someone's cat or worse. The table, full of uber-orthodox Catholics, was stunned. I didn't say I thought he was a moral paragon; in fact, the difference between our worldview and his covers some distance. But he always makes me think, and I appreciate that. I may ever be one who admires the unworthy, but my intellectual world is better with him in it. Lucky for me, his words outlive him. I wonder what to make of this? Even the thought of taking this seriously is preposterous. But maybe that's the point.
Today, you’re 35. Or at least you would be, in this place. You probably know this, but we’re OK. Not great, but OK. We know you wouldn’t want us moping around and weeping all the time. We try not to. Actually, I guess part of the problem is that you didn’t know how much we loved you. And that you didn’t know how to love yourself. I hope you have gotten to Love by now. Not a place, but fills everything in every way. I’m not Him, but he probably said, “Dear daughter/sister, you have been terribly hard on yourself. Rest now, and be at peace.” Anyway, teaching is going well, and I tell the kids all about you. They all say you are pretty. I usually can keep the boys from saying something gross for a few seconds. Mom and I are going to the game tonight. And like 6 more times, before I go back to South Carolina. I have seen Nicky twice, but I myself haven’t seen your younger kids. Bob took pictures of the day we said goodbye, and we did a family picture at the Abbey. I literally almost a...
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