Breakfasts were long rambling affairs held in the "new" kitchen (there's an "old," now unused kitchen which serves as storage and entry hall). They segued into snacks and lunch, with food on the table constantly. Our one dinner together was held on the two porches, one screened, one not. A family dog provided immense relief as she toodled about the property, unaware of sadness or remembrance.
People were lovely, loving, irritating, strange, delightful, and charming, sometimes all in one package.
I spent some time in company, and some by myself by the boat house watching dragon flies in the bright sun. A few people wandered down and spent time with me there.
The stone itself is beautiful, still in its natural shape, with reddish highlights (which Daniel also had), and with beautiful, appropriate words inscribed on it. Thanks to D's sisters and to Graham for their part in articulating a permanent rememberance. The stone sits in the woods about half-way down the driveway, alongside the graves of Daniel's sister and mother.
All together, it was a typical weekend at the camp, one which Daniel would have greatly enjoyed, I think. Perhaps he did enjoy it from wherever he is.
The celebration continued on Tuesday night with an English dance in Daniel's honor. I was feeling under the weather, and Robert and I stayed just for the first half and two more dances. (Graham called, but only in the latter half, so I was unable to experience the full pleasure of an evening of his dances.) G spoke a bit about how much joy dance brought to Daniel, and I remembered how broadly he smiled whenever he danced. A good memory, one to replace, or at least reside next to, some of the more horrific images I've had.
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