words are coming

When I said that I didn't have words about Daniel, I meant that I had thought a lot about our last encounter, and I'd worked through much of it. Graham helped enormously with that process. And I was flooded with images of him, some horrible imaginings that came to me in the middle of the night, some peaceful connections while he was in the hospital, some of Daniel when he was healthier. But that was it.

Yesterday, I had some memories, mostly fun ones. We've spent at least one Thanksgiving, maybe more with him. For several years, we attended his seders -- fun affairs held on a convenient night, not dictated by the calendar. Daniel had an assortment of haggadahs (some of which Robert and I gave him one Christmas). We'd each take one or more. I usually took the "angry lesbian haggadah," which, depending on my mood was either dead on or hysterically funny, and one other one. Then we'd go around the table and read our section, and if anyone else's section was different, that person would speak up. The discussions were fascinating and I learned so much. (This is what you get when a bunch of former divinity students get together. What a great place to be a fly on the wall.)

We were privileged to spend time with Daniel at his family camp in Maine, a grand old house on a lake that itself has seen many tragedies. We spent mornings in our pjs in the kitchen and cooked huge dinners which we ate on the porch. Daniel's sister and mother are there; Daniel will be there as of today.

And Daniel had so many communities from which he developed friendships -- English dance, LCFD dance, divinity school, workplaces, the greater gay community, the Unitarian church, political action groups, and probably others. He was constantly finding friends and bringing them home, introducing them to other friends. And yet last night, during the early part of visiting hours, I recognized very few people. A wide net indeed.

And his stuff! Graham had books, Daniel had things (and many of them were large) -- many family heirlooms. He also had china; he wanted his every day china to match, so he had a lot of it, maybe 12 place settings. And I remember helping G&D pack their Morrison Ave house and then unpack in Wakefield. I did a lot of unpacking in the kitchen, but I concentrated on a generous built-in china closet in the dining room, artfully arranging items so they could be showed off. The next time I visited, the entire closet was crammed with twice as much stuff, and it's possible that more was in boxes. There's a storage room off the mudroom which contains vases; Robert calls it the vaseoleum.

Last night at visiting hours, I mentioned to D's brother-in-law, Jeff, (the new husband of D's angel-sister Rachel) that there's a huge community of dancers who would love to help. When Daniel was starting to get sick, he had started the process of selling his house. I asked Jeff how they were going to handle all the stuff, and he admitted that they'd need some help. I said that it would be healing for me, and possibly others, to help with the last packing. So perhaps I and other dancers will work on that in the coming weeks, when the family is ready to call us.

I'm still not making sense of it, and I know that. As Robert said, sometimes we'd see Daniel several days in a row (perhaps at a dance, then at a party, and he might drop by to visit). And then we wouldn't see him for months (though I did have a fairly regular email correspondance with him; I tried to have a phone corresondance, but he was rarely home). So, except for dance camp, it's as if we're continuing to have a normal relationship with him, minus the email. I feel that I'm entering into that new space, but am not quite there yet. Perhaps tomorrow night, the memorial service will help.