Well.

I was in the process of writing a very bitchy post--I've had a very bitch-inspiring few days, the past two particularly--when my mom called.

I don't know if I've mentioned it, but my mom is a very, very devout church-goer. I mean, she goes to church EVERY...SINGLE...DAY. If she misses a day, it's generally because she's hospitalized, the car's broken down, or the house is buried under eighteen feet of snow.

And of course, today being Sunday, she was going to Mass anyway; however, she went to a different church than usual. She had stopped going to the church I grew up in several years ago because she disagreed with the pastor about...everything, pretty much...and started attending a church about a mile away; but today she went to the old church, because there was a Mass in honor of her friend who died last year.

She's telling me the story of something that happened during the service that upset her, when she mentions that the Mass was being held for two people: her friend, and "Tim Thomas" (obviously a pseudonym). Well, that just happens to be the name of a guy I went to grammar school with, and it's a fairly uncommon name. So I said "Not Tim Thomas, the one I went to school with?"

"Yeah," said Mom, "he died. He had cancer, you know." I HAD known--but when I'd seen him a couple years back at the reunion, he looked okay. Not great--none of the guys looked great!--but healthy.

The thing is, he had been probably my first true heartbreak, way back in fifth grade. I had a huge crush on him, and he'd chosen one of the popular girls to "ask out" (whatever possible meaning that could have had for two ten-year-olds back in 1981; we were pretty innocent then, even the "fast" girls. If I had a ten-year-old daughter NOW who said she was "going out" with a little boy, I'd seriously consider discussing safe sex.) I remember spending Valentines' Day 1981 in a deep despair, having learned this news at a Girl Scout party the night before.

And we all grew up; I'm sure that little girl who I envied so much has had her traumas too. I don't know what became of her; contrary to my direst fears, they didn't grow up, get married, and live happily ever after.

After my mom told me that he had died, I did a search for his name in Google; I found out that he'd died back in the fall, and that he left behind a wife and a small child...a little girl, who's autistic.

I didn't feel so much like writing that bitchy post, after that.