Here in Boston

I'm on a sad errand: representing my Dad's branch of the family for his younger brother's funeral. He was a very good guy, my uncle; a faithful Catholic here in the land of Kerry and Kennedy, an excellent and honest businessman, a tireless volunteer for his parish and a local senior center. He and my aunt had ten children, all of whom are married and raising good families of their own.

I have many fond memories of visiting with my aunt and uncle and their family; they were a shining example of the virtues of hospitality and the love of extended family. Their hug-filled greetings and good-byes, the laughter and conversation, the knowledge that you were among kin, and they knew it, and we knew it, and we all valued it ... it was a joy.

At dinner the other night, my husband recalled our trip east in 2000 for my cousin's wedding. After a grueling drive, with four kids ages 10 and under, through traffic and winding Boston roads, getting lost at least once, we finally pulled up to their house, bedraggled, hungry, and in serious need of some downtime.

And it was like being welcomed into Heaven. Not to overstate the case, but seriously, it was wonderful. My aunt and uncle poured Tom "a good, stiff drink", as he puts it, the delicious smells of dinner in the oven enticed us, we settled into comfy chairs and began chatting, my cousin's fiance started entertaining our two-year old son with an explanation of muskets and other firearms, and the tension of the trip began to unwind immediately.

My uncle was the youngest of the three "Mueller boys", as they were known all their lives. My dad is the middle son, and my godfather, Bob, is the oldest. There was quite a gap between them -- 12 years from the oldest to the youngest -- but they were close to each other in things that matter.

My godfather and his wife will be here, along with quite a few of their ten children.

It tugs at the heartstrings; the circle of life with all its joys and sorrows.

If you have a moment today, please say a prayer for the soul of my Uncle Dick, and a little prayer for his widow and children. They have the consolation of faith, but still could use a few prayers for strength. Thank you.