It was the last day of the Diane Arbus exhibit. I had two tickets and invited Rebecca Granville.

We hadn't spoken since the intervention -- she instinctively knew I needed some space and didn't want to talk about it -- or Eric. So she was thrilled when I called.

I knew she was fibbing when she told me she couldn't get tickets to the exhibition since her father was on the Board at the Museum. But it was a white lie and totally forgivable, since I knew she wanted to go with me.

Somehow, everything vanished when we saw the photographs of Diane Arbus. She was a genius and her personality was written on every shot. It was a collection of pieces taken of the mentally retarded and insane from mental hospitals -- all dressed in costumes for Halloween, birthday parties and so forth.

The photos were haunting. Heartbreaking. Inspiring. Humbling.

They made you instantly take inventory of your life. Of what you were bitching about, what we were aspiring to do with our own life, and how lucky we are-- how frighteningly lucky we are.

Both Rebecca and I cried several times. She chose her favorites and I chose mine, some were the same and some began to show how she and I were different. At one point, we saw a photograph that we both felt such deep feelings for, that we held hands and sat at a bench across from the picture -- and wept.

It was wonderful. Diane Arbus, thank you for changing my life.

*****

We went to the museum coffee bar for some cappuccinos, sipping in silence for some time, still in reverie.

Finally, Rebecca asked, "How's Eric?"

"He's okay... no, he's a mess. He's angry and resentful and more than anything else, he's scared. I can hear it in his voice. Eric is great at covering everything but fear and he's afraid. His voice wiggles and he gets real quiet. I think this is definitely the most difficult thing he's ever decided to do -- and if he makes it through this, he'll be a strong, deeply changed man. "

I sipped again, my words still hanging in the air.

"Boy," I said. "Diane Arbus gets you to thinking, doesn't she? Ah, forget it. I sound like some cheesy philosopher. What do I know? I don't know how he'll be. No one does. He's Eric, he's Luigi -- he's both and he should only be one person. We'll see..." and I drifted back into silence.

After a moment, Rebecca said, "I think we should plan a visit. We should wait a little while, several days -- then drive down and see him. What do you think, Drew?"

"I think that's a great idea. I'm so glad you offered...I don't know if I could do the first visit by myself... it was so hard to leave him there. So hard."

We thought of Diane Arbus as we finished our coffee and drove back to our homes -- silent and peaceful.