Lucia Thompson’s recollections of her late brother were both heartbreaking and beautiful (Connections, January 27). I was so touched by her obvious adoration of him, while she was so very young herself, and her generous spirit, wanting more for him than herself. She learned the lesson while quite young that life is short, precious, and fragile. Thompson seems to have carried this with her always, keeping her brother alive in her thoughts and efforts for others.
I’m a 65-year-old psychologist and I’ve heard and seen it all. But I was brought to tears reading Thompson’s essay in the Globe Magazine. It was the most tender, heartfelt, loving account of a life led with a hole in it that could never be filled, despite the fact that she became, I’m certain, a wonderful wife and mother to her own two children. Life is indeed so fragile, and our hearts can get expanded and then crushed so easily.
Jan Levine Igoe
Thompson’s story hit me squarely in the heart. Beautifully written, it also gave me hope and confidence that, someday, I too will see my lost ones in their other dimension.
Elaine K. Nickerson
I wish I had created a similar article about the brother I lost in 1965 and is always still with me. I still recall him as the 19-year-old college student who was killed in a car accident while away at school. And every day since, I know he is watching over me. Thank you for reminding me of that.
Thompson’s essay was familiar in so many ways. My brother was 10 and I was 7 when he passed 50-plus years ago. When his birthday of February 6 arrived, it brought with it the familiar sadness and what ifs. Similarly, I recall a dream that has stayed with me all these years. My brother smiling, sitting on the edge of my bed, a year or two after he died, telling me he was OK.
I just finished reading yet another Dinner With Cupid (January 27) where the young lady [said “there wasn’t a spark”] and she opted out of a second date. This seems to be a recurring theme. I would like to tell these couples about my experience with “no sparks.” The year was 1968. A guy in my Spanish class at BU asked me out. We went to a concert, had a nice time, but I felt no sparks. He was nice so I said yes to a second date. By the third date, there was a bit of a spark. That spark ignited a flame, and we will be celebrating our 50th wedding anniversary in August. I would say to go into these blind dates with an open mind. And by the way, my husband and I still have a spark!
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