Saturday was my husband’s memorial. I knew I would have no time to write anything that day, so I thought I would catch up yesterday and post two Slices for the day. But that didn’t happen either. So here is it, March 7, and I will definitely post three times today. I promise.
So here’s what I could have posted for Saturday’s slice.
I barely had enough time to pack up everything — the large picture board, the two notebooks of J.’s newspaper clips, the notebook of the letters he wrote his oldest friend from 1963 to 1970, more memorabilia — when my cousin, driving up from Virginia, called to ask about parking 10 blocks away. Seems she neglected to look up my address, thinking she remembered it, and she was 10 blocks off. So I had time for a few stretches before she arrived at my door.
We set off in her car to the church downtown. (I’m a New Yorker; I don’t own a car.) It’s a 40-minute subway ride and brief walk, but we had too much to carry to take the train. But New York City traffic can be horrendous. In trying to detour around construction, my casual driving knowledge led us into a longer detour than expected. I had to call the church to give updates on our progress.
The memorial was scheduled to start at 2 p.m. We arrived about five minutes past. My friend who was coordinating the logistics assured me they couldn’t start without me. And I was amazingly calm. I know J. would have been having a fit; he would have been sure to be there at least two hours in advance. But I’m not like him; I’d wanted to be there by 1 p.m., but if it didn’t happen, it didn’t happen.
The assembly room was bustling with people. I quickly delegated my daughter to put programs on all the chairs, and I put up the picture board and laid out the books and ephemera. The a capella Art Mob sang, and it was a wonderful and warm couple of hours of remembrances. If it wasn’t exactly as I had envisioned, it was still a supportive and thankful experience.
Here is the cover for the program.