Diane and I have morphed into rigid ritualists. Not only do we brush our teeth everyday, shower every time we walk by the bathroom, and obsessively check our email, we also eat dinner Friday nights at the Sushi House and breakfast most Sundays at a local diner. Last Friday we were already seated when Dan joined us. He slid in next to Diane and when the waitress came by he smiled, pointed at Diane’s Chardonnay, and said, “I’ll have one of those.” Then, with his arms crossed, he looked at Diane and asked,

“So what was your relationship like with your father?”

Diane hesitated, missed half a beat and replied,

“It was good. I loved my father. He was smart and funny. A wry kind of funny.”

“You mean like Susan?”

“No, more like….Matthew.”

“Didn’t he give you math problems at the dinner table?”

“He could have.” Diane looked across the table at me as if I would have the answer. I thought, maybe Uncle Bill, but not Frank.

“We did have political discussions at the table. He loved debate. But my mother didn’t like it all, she would get up and do the dishes. His relationship with Susan was sharp; he sparred with her, but with me, he was softer. Tickled me, and when we were driving he would reach over and slap my knee. Like Michael does now.”

Dan looked my way.

“So you knew Frank?”

“Oh yeah. We went down to New City a lot. But I mostly knew his death, not his life. I was there once or twice before we found out about his cancer. I remember dinner on Scott Drive, when we argued about Macrobiotics. He said people died eating that way; I thought kinda narrow of you to choose a worst case example. Maybe he was testing to see if I could spar as well as Susan. Well, I couldn’t. Still can’t. Anyway, it was an embarrassing way to start a relationship. For me. I remember very early in his illness, he cooked lamb on the grill. A meal I’d heard so much about from Diane, but this time, one he overcooked. I saw mostly the frail Frank, not the Frank of legend. “

Dan turned back to Diane.

“Did he visit you in Somerville when you were living with Michael?”

“No. He helped me move, but he didn’t come back. I don’t think he approved of the apartment, he thought it needed work. He wanted to paint it.”

“Did he say anything about your living situation?”

“No, he was a liberal. He didn’t say that we were living in sin, or anything like that. Like my mother. Remember, Michael, when I slipped and told Flo I was living with you.”

“She said, ëI think it’s time you come back home.’ “

“He was…a liberal? Dan seemed surprised.

“Yes, on social issues.”

“Looking at Wolfman and Girlfriend I can see why Emerson was upset about my choice of friends. I might feel the same way now.”

“Emerson must have been upset when you left Raytheon,” I offered.

“He was stunned. Couldn’t believe it.”

“What work did Frank do?”

“Worked for Bell Tel.”

“Was he an engineer?”

“Started as an engineer, but he moved up to management.”

“And his father?”

“Worked for Bell Tel too.”

And that was the end of the conversation. No closed loops, only a new topic- Dan’s diet – to take its place. I don’t know what Diane was thinking as she answered Dan’s questions, but it made me sad. I miss Frank because of what I know about his relationship wth Diane, Susan, and Patti. He loved them in a way that a parent should love his children- unequivocally. There were his daughters and then there was everyone else. I wished Matthew could have experienced that love from this playful grandfather. And I wish that Frank had known Matthew. He would finally have found another soul in the family to spar with.