I am going to New York for a few days.

I don't think my mother will mind me remembering Robert with her beautiful letter; our good friend, a son to my mother, a cousin to me, even if not by blood. Robert passed yesterday early in the morning, a life lost too soon, a body losing the battle to a vicious disease.

AIDS truly does touch everyone, somehow.

This is for Robert:

Robert Remembered
September 22, 2003

You were the brightest and funniest of little boys and you brought joy and love into my life those many years ago when I was young and not yet a mother. You lived in the building next door on West 85th Street. Alfred became a close friend and role model for me as a parent because of the love you shared with each other and the respect you had for him. You were a really good kid, so eager to learn, you asked a million questions.

I see you still in your platform sneakers, wobbling along the sidewalk convinced you looked so "cool". You were a mischievous kid too. At a picnic on my terrace, you managed to sit on your hamburger squashing it into your pants. I sent you home for your foolery but we still laughed at the memory of it when we talked some weeks ago in St Vincent's Hospital.

I was moved to tears with your devotion at the Christmas Pageant at Radio City Music Hall. When the Holy family came on stage you knelt and prayed. You really felt the spirit in that pageant, raising it for me from a commercial stage show to a higher plane. You believed in miracles.

When Maya was born we moved to Brooklyn but you and Alfred remained a strong presence in our lives. Thanksgiving, Christmas and other holidays were spent together and you reminded me some weeks ago, of the times you played with Maya and her Smurfs. You patiently let the toddler boss you around. By the time we moved to Canada you had grown into a wonderful, creative and generous teen.

Grow up you did, into a spirited, interesting and intelligent young man: a son to be proud of. You had ambition and talent and you never stopped searching for your place in the world. On our last visit to New York, Alfred and I walked behind you and Maya (both of you dressed the same in the black uniform of nineties cool). Suddenly we realized our kids were adults. You were both deep in conversation with each other, oblivious of us. Laughter would resonate every so often and we, your parents, congratulated each other on a job well done.

Your humour never left you. Even in our last conversation in St Vincent's you made me laugh. I will miss that; I will miss your e-mails; I will miss your Mother's Day phone calls, a tradition Alfred started. I will miss you.
Your life has ended too soon.

But you should know that your life was a great success. Success is not defined by what you have done, but who you have been. Robert you were the best!

I hope God has a good sense of humour. He'll need it with you around.

I know Maya joins me in saying
Love always,
Claire