Today I voted at the polling place I have been going to for more than twenty years. No less than four of the regulars-the poll workers-asked me how Di was doing. They all wanted me to tell her that they think of her often and especially when they see the pink tree. I was glad that they were so concerned for Di. After I left it occurred to me that not a single person asked me how I was doing. As the realization hit me I had a very strong emotional reaction--I started to laugh. It was , I am guessing, easier to ask me about Di than to ask me about myself. Perhaps they were more comfortable with a second hand story of grief than hearing about it first hand from me and not knowing how I would react to their question.
I do remember when Casey was about two and a half years old I took her into the same voting machine and let her flip the levers for the candidates that I wanted .
