ERNIE AND ERNESTINA: Searching

Book Two, Chapter 312: Reality. Truth. Discovery.

It’s the first of December. Soon it will be the seventh of December — the day, two years ago, Ernie died. It’s the day I’ve decided to end this book, to write its final words.

Ernie told me once, in anger and disgust and disappointment, that “you’ll write about me.” He filled binders with clippings and letters and other biographical information. Perhaps he thought, if I did write about him, these binders would serve as reference books, that I would go to them for names or dates or quotes — for the facts.

I did refer to one of the binders once, when I was writing Ernie’s obit. I couldn’t remember which generation American he was. Sixth? Seventh? Ninth? He was proud that his father’s ancestors came to America so early. “I could be a Son of the American Revolution if I wanted to do the research,” he said.

I found the information I sought, but I don’t remember now which generation he is. Facts elude me. Numbers fly from my mind. But I do know truth now. I recognize truth. To come to truth is why I’ve written this book — not to know facts.

There is a Search in life. There is Timing. There is Reality. There is Truth. There is Discovery. I’m on a search to recognize Reality, to come to Truth, to Discover myself.

Marlena de Blasi, in her book A Thousand Days in Tuscany, writes that she often says to herself: I want what I already have. When I was with Ernie and Joshua and a dog named Merlin, all of us living in the stucco cottage, I had what I wanted and didn’t know it.

Once, Ernie called me an ingrate. Yes, it’s true, I was. I didn’t know I was or why I was. I do now.

Reality. Truth. Discovery.