Mary

It's been a long, long time. But I knew Mary Richardson in Boston in the 1980s. She was one of sweetest, most compassionate people I met in those years, standing out in the Kennedy entourage for her vast swoosh of long black hair and bubbly charm – as well as what was clear then as it is now: a vulnerability. I am not surprised she became, by all accounts, a superlative mother. May she finally rest in peace, and may her children find a way to survive the darkness into which they have now been plunged. Depression is a terrible thing. As is addiction.