When Eddie was 12, Joe and I took him for a long weekend to Everglades National Park. The first day we were there, we all rented kayaks and paddled around the (alligator-infested)canals that run through the park. I, of course, was a nervous wreck that Eddie would fall into the water and be attacked by alligators. Joe, recognizing the natural athlete that Eddie was, thought I was being ridiculous. At one point, I ended up much further up the canal than Joe and Eddie. Apparently, Joe (who himself is a 12-year old boy at heart)fell into the canal and Eddie got out of his kayak to help Joe get back into his. The two of them, not realizing how sound travels over water, started paddling back, collaborating on their story to me to explain why they were both wet. I, of course, heard every word ("What should we tell Cioci Karen?" "I don't know, what do you think we should say?") They showed up, grinning ear-to-ear, clearly pleased they had pulled one over me. And looked crestfallen when I said, "you know, I heard everything you said." My sweet Eddie. I held you in my arms when you were christened. I loved you as a boy and I loved the young man you became. I relished watching you mature and have a long, happy life. Your father put it best: now, I will be different, but intact. I will miss you more than I can say.