RANSVESTIA

duties. Al was finally operated on, on Jan. 3rd, with further surgery planned six weeks later. My God, but he was so sick. It was just too much. He died on Jan. 9th. I received word, and returned to the States, the trip an agony of whether anyone had tampered with his trunk. No. one had, thank God.

I arrived late the night before his funeral. . had missed the service. My widowed sister, who is a brick, took me over to the funeral home, early the next morning, letting me alone with him. I have to admit to feeling joy for him. At long last, he was free from the pain and anguish of a lifetime. I reserve the sorrow for those of us who must live without him. For all the joy of him is gone forever. He was the strongest of all of us. He gave us all sunshine and understanding. If only we could have returned it during his lifetime! He sacrificed so much, to save his family hurt. He could have had his own apartment all those years, but he lived with our parents. Actually, it was his home, and he provided for them. As I stood there, looking at him, I wanted so much to change his clothes, to bury him in the silky froth he loved so much, but it couldn't be. I tucked a tiny, lacy hanky in his pocket, and hoped he would forgive me the inadequate gesture. My sister saw me, but never asked why. She understood days later.

And so we buried him, at Hastings on the Hudson, on a sunshine soaked, almost warm day. Most of the flowers happened to be golden yellow, and as we drove away, and I looked back, they reflected the golden sunshine that had been Al.

As days went by, I realized the necessity of opening his trunk while I was there. I also realized that my father could never be told. His old fashioned way of life, his advancing senility (he will be 80 this summer) his own physical condition, could never understand and accept "Ali- son". He is also a talker, and doesn't realize what he says, and I could take no chance that he would blab to an outsider. So we arranged for him to be "needed” at my sister's, and my other sister's husband took him up to Chester for the day, to putter around fixing a cabinet. My brother, George, and sisters Grace and Helen, arrived soon after, and with my mother, went to Al's room. I had brought with me, letters from Al, and expected to find mine to him, in the trunk. I wanted them to know I had known, and that Al had trusted me, so there would be no question of the utter truth of our feelings. I had the key. . a trust from Al, and I opened the trunk. I knew what I would find, although I had

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