June 29, 2009

Jeff’s funeral was dignified, due to Dede’s wise decision to follow the most formal Anglican rubric. Things were done that way back then for a reason. Brian gave a sermon that seemed brilliant to me, because he’d had so little personal knowledge of Jeff to work with. The children, especially the daughter, are beautiful, but seemed unmoved, or else I couldn’t read their faces well. I was disappointed in the attendance. There were no students, but it’s summer, and Jeff had been sick so long than only alumni would remember him. Merritt, Rick, Charles James, Peg, and Mike G were the other pallbearers. We went out to Riverside under the trees and among the ancient dead. My foot was still throbbing, and that worried me, but I found that when I was actually doing my duties I didn’t feel it, or didn’t notice it. The mind is miraculous. Every time Dede said, “He loved you so much,” it was like a dagger to my heart. I dedicated A Dream of Adonis to him, but hadn’t phoned in two years.

There was still light when I crashed into bed last night, and the light had already come ice blue when I woke.