Sunday afternoon, after we had had sufficient time to recover from guitar Mass, I took AJ to gymnastics for his friend N�s birthday. N is the one whose dad died a couple of weeks ago. We were all still feeling raw about it. A, N�s mom, hasn�t even had a chance to finish sending out thank you notes for the casseroles and flowers and donations to the children�s college fund.

I think we were all remembering N�s last birthday. It�s funny, but I can�t remember if N�s dad was there. It seems inconceivable that he wouldn�t have been unless there were concerns about his immunity. I remember AJ and N sitting next to each other and showing each other their cake-filled mouths. I remember carrying N�s little brother W around and having incomprehensible conversations in gibberish that seemed very meaningful to one of us.

I wasn�t sure what to expect of the day. We all feel so terrible for N. His real birthday was in August, but his dad was dying, so the party was postponed. As it happened, his party, planned before it all, was just three weeks after his dad�s funeral.

It was lovely. It was everything a 5-year-old�s birthday should be. The kids were ecstatic with that birthday euphoria. I took picture after picture of N smiling and having fun, and the rest of them too. But it was the grownups that were really beautiful. It felt like a gathering of the clan. We all instinctively moved toward A, just to be there. I had a long talk with A about all that�s been going on while we sat with our cameras watching the children bounce down a trampoline and into a giant pit filled with soft foam blocks. She sounds calm and peaceful � although no one wants to say it, I�m sure some of the feeling is relief. She is amazed at what her friends have done and continue to do for her. But as I told RS in an email about it this weekend, there is no mawkish sentiment, no strings attached. It is practical. They�re doing what they want to do. I�m on the fringes of the group. I�ve been around, but I haven�t been there in the same way as those closer to the whole family. I have wanted to help, but haven�t wanted to intrude when there are clearly so many involved already. I continue to offer my help and to be her emergency backup when other systems fail. But there was a tightness of the group there yesterday, a feeling of solidarity. We weren�t mournful. Sometimes we were silly, as when A�s best friend suddenly picked her up � she�s a very small woman � and tossed her into the pit of foam while the rest of us looked on, astonished. I was laughing so hard that I forgot the camera in my hand and I missed it completely. The only visual evidence is the end of A�s black sweater, a blur in the corner of a distorted photograph as she extricated herself, laughing even harder than I was.

I went through the pictures tonight � I took almost 60 � photo after photo of N with a grin plastered to his face. The children played pirates � they all know N well. He received more pirate paraphernalia than you can shake a sword at. The goody bags included eye patches. As soon as they were torn open, they were on each face, along with the pirate party hats. The room was filled with kids screaming, �Yarrr, matey!� N and AJ were inseparable for most of the party. N gave AJ one of the two pirates on top of his cake, keeping the other for himself. AJ took it gravely as the prized possession it was intended to be.

My favorite photos of the afternoon are a pair of pictures taken while the children sat at the long table with their cake. I took a picture of N�s cousin M sticking out her tongue, dyed a startling fluorescent blue from the icing. The rest of the children wanted to see their blue tongues too. So the next photo is of all the children sticking out their blue tongues for the camera. Some are making silly faces, some are trying to see their own tongues, others are laughing at a neighbor, others look almost defiant. We are all defiant. I felt like sticking out my tongue too. We have come through it. Life goes on. There is still joy and love and friendship. It is real, so real. I have never felt more like a grownup than I did at that moment, watching them all. �This is,� I thought, �what life is. This is it.�

[Second entry today. Click back to read about the chain of guitarists in my wake]

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