Ted, Ed and Tim

I watched the memorial service for Teddy Kennedy this weekend, which was really difficult for me.

I tend to cry relatively easily in normal circumstances, thus funerals for me, even those of people I have never met, are particularly hard to endure.

When I worked for Liberty Mutual the receptionist father died. He was elderly, in poor health and his death was not unexpected. I would not have known him in a crowd of one, yet at the service I found myself sobbing. It was somewhat embarrassing, as I seemed more upset than the immediate family.

"How did you know him?" a woman asked.

"A friend," I lied. I really couldn't tell the truth. It was one of my top ten psycho moments.

In the last three years I have buried two Grandmothers and my beloved Grandfather. I can say, without hesitation, I cried more at Ed Bradley's televised service than at all three services in aggregate.

I was able to hold it together for Kennedy's service because there were other people around, but when I watched Tim Russert's service I was home alone so my grief was unmitigated by the humiliation of crying, at times uncontrollably, for a person I had never met.

"You may have a detachment disorder," Gioconda has suggested more than a few times.

Since she frequently diagnoses me with a variety of psychological "challenges" most of the time she lacks credibility, yet I have to admit she may be on to something.

Its true I feel more connected to animals than I do most people, and at times the thought of being in solitary confinement is oddly attractive, yet I am now two people's mother so it seems as though I need to be more tethered to human beings, that is human beings I have actually met.


But then again, sometimes I find I like the people I have never met so much more than those I actually know....