My cousin Jay is one of my favorite people, and in spite of our meeting only once in ten years, we have a deep connection. He is a Little Brother of Charles de Foucauld, an order whose members take vows of lifelong poverty and whose work is to live among the poor, living and working exactly as they do, in low-paid, yet essential jobs.

For the past seven years, Jay has been an aide in a residential setting for people with Alzheimer’s and he speaks so movingly of the great joy he finds in working with them. When he heard that Mom was dying, he dropped everything and hopped on the next bus from New York. He arrived as I did, just a few hours too late to see her alive, but bearing comfort and peace in his calm acceptance of life’s realities and of this stage in Mom’s journey.
The next morning, Lucy and I were going out to buy Mom a dress to be buried in. Her wardrobe for the past many years has been track suits, and we all wanted her to have something more in keeping with the dignity with which she lived.

When Jay heard what we were doing, he immediately said he wanted to contribute to the cost of the dress. Lucy protested, knowing that he is as poor as a church mouse, but Jay insisted. He said his sister Terri had just given him some cash and that he was rich! The $20 he gave us was, in relative terms, like $1000 from someone else.
Lucy and I were so touched. We knew it wouldn’t go very far, given the price of a nice dress these days, but the gesture meant so much to us.
So imagine our surprise and delight when we found the PERFECT suit – an elegant sea-green jacket and skirt, with a matching turtleneck, on sale at 80% off. The total came to – guess what? Nineteen dollars and twenty cents.

So Mom. So Jay. So Right. So Perfect.