I’m going to the Red Sox game with my department tomorrow evening. We’ll be sitting in the green monster, being served dinner, hors d'oeuvres and drinks and taking in the game.
Before the game begins, we’re getting a behind-the-scenes tour of Fenway Park and on-field access during pre-game player batting practice.
And I feel guilty. Chris would have died for this much more readily than he died for cancer. He was a fanatical Red Sox fan.
One of my co-workers made me feel better by pointing out that spouses and significant others are not invited, so Chris would have had to stay home being jealous, anyway and I would still feel guilty. I suppose he’s right.
Still, I feel bad and aside from my guilt, this trip to Fenway park, or dealing with the Red Sox at all, is a straggler of one of my very last firsts.
It hurts.
Shneed
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