and finally, tears come

Our marriage ceremony was Saturday afternoon. As I mentioned, it was an intensely small and intensely loving affair. We cut short our dinner so that Cen, Robert, and I could dash into Arlington for Daniel's memorial service.

What a time that was -- the place was packed. There were two ministers, both close friends of D. Graham gave the eulogy, a long-but-could-have-been-longer portrait, full of love (and it was the love-him-as-he-was kind, not the adore-him-on-a-pedestal kind). Many people gave shorter speeches, trying to make sense of it all. There was some beautiful music (including the Ash Grove and the King of Love My Shepard Is, both, I learned, favorites of D), and poetry and other readings.

Truly a full day. I felt deeply at the service, and perhaps a little watery-eyed, but mostly quiet. In the last couple of days, however, I've noticed myself being a bit weepy, perhaps during those in-between moments. I've certainly been thinking a great deal of Daniel as I try to understand his absence. I feel like I've entered another stage of understanding.

Funny, two people asked me "whatever will we do without Daniel?" Clearly, the world is a poorer place without him. My answer, which was probably totally inadequate but the best I could do, was that we each incorporate a tiny piece of him -- we think about his good works and are inspired to continue them in whatever small way we can. It's our way of keeping him alive in our hearts, for as long as we can, or perhaps a way of keeping a small part of him within ourselves.

There is of course no sense to any of this -- his brief illness or his death -- but I do feel that my heart is slowly catching up with my head-full-of-facts.

I continue to hold his caregivers -- especially Graham -- in a special place in my heart. I know them all to be true heroes.