Our James

It was perfect.

And beautiful and heart wrenching and difficult and heartfelt and exactly right.

We were a gathering of souls there for one reason.

So many souls. So much empathy. So much love.

So much music and so many gorgeous words.

Aquilino and his band made it everything. This man. My god. They accompanied Jane on Sweet Child of Mine and I don't know how they all did it but it was transcendent.


And Jacquie's eulogy? If you haven't read it, do. But transport yourself to the Inn at Sunset Cliffs and listen to it live instead. Jacquie's eloquence and grace in her delivery were incredible.

And Clara spoke. At her brother's memorial. Her words were funny and heartfelt and lovely and perfect and Clara. And I don't know how she did it either.

We were so dumb. I was so dumb. I kept saying, "It has to be good; this has to be good; we have to make it good." But Jacquie already knew that. She already knew how to make it good.

And the people there made it everything.

Three generations.

Me and mah girl.

The ballet girls.

And Mabel. And her Cameron . . .

Mabel makes everything better.

But this kid? Our Clara? She does too.

Clara makes all things better. And so does Ari.

And these lovelies? They *make* everything.

I wish I could show you how beautiful everything was . . . 

. . . how beautiful every*one* was . . .

. . . how beautiful everyone sounded.

. . . and how amazing this lovely was.

. . .  I mean, the woman has a transparent hand. That says a *lot*.

It was lovely and beautiful and perfect. We kept saying that. Perfect. For the most imperfect reason.

And the sunset at the day's end was off the charts. Which was fitting. And perfect.

The next day we gathered ourselves bright and early by mid-afternoon at the beach. I mean, we were in Southern California . . .

. . .  and our youngests hung ten . . .

. . . while the rest of us closely guarded the beach.

Jacquie's friends are solid gold . . .

. . . as are her nieces . . .

. . . and her nephews.

And then?

Another San Diego Sunset . . .

. . . and a Full Moon Rising.

I don't know how we process this. Nobody does. And being together is incredible and amazing and just as hard as everything surrounding it is.

But we're here.

We're here.

So we can be.

To quote Maya Angelou, and her brilliant When Great Trees Fall, which I was honored to participate in reciting at James' Memorial on Saturday, and at Mumsie's on Thursday:

We can be.
Be and be
 better.
For they existed.