In Cathy Seipp‘s final weeks, and in the weeks following her death, there developed this weird Cathy sweepstakes as many of us who loved her competed to show that we were the ones who loved her most, certainly more than so-and-so, who wasn’t just boorish but fundamentally evil.
From January to June, several friendships forever ended. It’s been four months since Cathy died, and the sweepstakes wounds we’ve inflicted on each other are far bigger than the pain we feel from losing Miss Seipp.
(It is one hundred times easier for enemies to become friends than it is for betrayed friends to reunite.)
And the battle is as competitive as ever. Now it takes the form of establishing how close we are to Cathy’s daughter Maia. We compete (or at least I know I do) by comparing the frequency and intensity of the times Maia IMs us. I’ve often found myself on the defensive declaring, "Maia doesn’t mind what I write." Pathetic that a 41-year old man depends on the approval of an 18-year old girl.
I sometimes find myself thinking, "I say Kaddish for Cathy every day at shul. What do you do?"
It’s what Cathy would’ve wanted — a big nasty battle over Cathy.
