Dan's Eulogy
Dear Mack,
My guess is that you are now puzzling over the ultimate puzzle, deriving the simultaneous equations in n dimensions that would explain how it is that you can still *be*, though your body has expired. And how it can be that your treasured 1950s high school math text harbored not a clue about this larger reality? However, if you think about it, the protagonist of your other favorite book, Flatland, one A Squared, did once try to explain this to you. Remember when he described the visitation of a 3-dimensional sphere as it passed through the two-dimensional space of his native land?
Those of us remaining in 3-D while you hover in the nth are left to ponder and process the entangled threads of existence that we are woven into. We are left to follow the threads, or not, back through time, to solve the puzzles of our lives, or not, and vow to make better places for those that follow us, or not. Despite the ancestral psychodramas that we get entangled in, we know somewhere inside ourselves that, in fact, all we do is the best we can.
Mack, I want you to know that I am grateful to you for co-creating with Helen my best friend Michael, whose essence is the distillation of much the best of both of you. He has unraveled so much, and he daily makes a better place for all around him. I can suppose that you knew he was coming to visit you again, and timed your departure to coincide, looking to minimize the burden all around. Michael loves you, as do Joan, Brian, and Peter. My wish is that your departure can ease all their burdens, that they can reconcile their different ways of trying to take care of you, and simply grieve your passing together.
Good bye Mack. I’ll long remember your math puzzles, your warm greeting when I arrived at your home last July when Helen passed, and your unique semi-stuttering speech and oblique wit.
Oh yes: You’ll be delighted to know that Oracle was up 37 cents on your last day!
..Dan
I don’t even know what to say. That was so beautiful. This is how a life should be celebrated. Bravo to all involved.
Jen
Comment by Jen — February 7, 2007 @ 4:51 pm
This has been one period of time when I’ve wished that y’all would get Jennifer and Jen mixed up. That is: I haven’t known what to say all week and silence does seem like the wrong thing. But Jen has said pretty much what I would wish to say. Wait, was it Jen who started the giggles? (They do overtake every now and then. But not in response to this very touching — and, I believe, FITTING piece, Dan.)
Comment by Jennifer — February 7, 2007 @ 8:02 pm
Dan-O … Wow. ‘Twixt you and Diane, was ever a mortal coil shuffled off so well-bespoken? Heckuva piece, abundantly generous and optimistic. Bravo. Say it again … Bra-VOH.
Comment by adam — February 7, 2007 @ 9:22 pm
It happened again, Adam, eloquent and richly composed eulogies of which Dan’s was in the top tier. Somewhere up there with my sister’s and Diane’s.
And Jenifer, I have been wondering where you were, and I agree with you about Jen’s comments. She’s covered so much beginning with her own personal statement.
Comment by michael — February 8, 2007 @ 8:07 am
No comment.
And Michael, you asked for an update on my life. I have something prepared and sent it to your personal account (because I can’t remember how to post on my own) but everything I’ve sent to you and Diane in the last couple of weeks has bounced back. Just as well. The focus of the blog is right where it belongs.
Comment by Jen — February 8, 2007 @ 3:45 pm
Actually, that happened to me too, Michael. Before my long silence, I had sent you some photos that I thought you could post. Of course, that was before this truely marvelous saga. Well, marvelous for the distant audience. I imagine it’s getting rather tired around about … a week ago?
But basically I’ve been quiet because since Hilary went back to school, I’ve put in a series of 12 hour days at school and then 3 more hours or so at home on school work. Well. It passes the time.
Comment by Jennifer — February 8, 2007 @ 11:36 pm