Today is the meeting.  I have been trying to call Eddie for the past week only to have him answer and yell “Hello!” into the receiver then hang up…leaving us both frustrated.  I got a message from him last night saying his phone had died on him.

So…so in order for this blog to have merit I guess I have to get him a phone on the way to the meeting with him and his staff.

Even though I have not spoken to Ed in a week I still think I get the brownie points Ed is so aware of because I have spent at least an hour a day for the past few weeks thinking about this meeting.  Thinking about how to present myself…thinking about the goal…thinking about what to wear (I am going casual-chic…to look both professional and friendly.)

The goal is to be in better relationship with those that are in Eddie’s daily life.  I have been fighting this relationship for years…with Ed’s staff…with my mother’s.  Why?  Who knows…probably because I didn’t “friend” them into my life.  Probably because they come and go so quickly.  Probably because I am Catholic (not practicing…but let’s face it…there is holy water in each and every cell of my being.)

My brother’s brownie point system…(mostly you get brownie points for doing anything for him) comes from our Catholic heritage.  Catholics are good for rewarding certain behaviors.  I remember my father and grandfather carrying little notebooks in their shirt pockets.  Whenever they did certain Catholic things like going to mass…celebrating Holy Days of Obligation…confession…those sorts of things….they would take out their notebooks and give themselves a chit…a slash mark…proof of their goodness.

When I got old enough, like around seven, I asked my dad about it.  He said that if he got enough chits he would attain Absolution.  My seven-year-old self remembers asking him what Absolution was.  He said it meant no matter what…he got into heaven.  Heaven insurance.

I spent the rest of our lives together pondering the most heinous crimes I could think of …made him the perpetrators of these crimes within scenarious…then ask him things like, “So Dad” (I always started these with “So Dad”) “if you killed a hundred babies would you still go to heaven?”  Every single time he would tense up…one because I simply would never let this be, two because I was shining light on the ludicrousness of this loop-hole to heaven, and three because he needed to hold tight to this heaven-insurance he’d been paying into all of his life.  He would always grit his teeth and say a curt, “Yes.”

I am fairly certain I am ascending up when I leave this body…so I wish Ed’s browning points were real brownies that wouldn’t make me fat.  I am hoping for a plate today…because I am letting go of this longstanding resistance of accepting these important folks in his life…and doing something to repair the relationships I pretend are not there.