Family and friends are a wonderful blessing at times like this, and you are all included in that group. The outpouring of support and warm feelings I've received from you has made me smile . . . and okay, cry a little (but in a good way).
I received this in a note from Kit. I love this poem, and will have it memorized before the month ends. I've printed it out, and it will remain always with the memorabilia from my mother's funeral.
And this one came from Nancy. Also with my mom's stuff.
by John Updike
And another regrettable thing about death
is the ceasing of your own brand of magic,
which took a whole life to develop and market –
the quips, the witticisms, the slant
adjusted to a few, those loved ones nearest
to the lip of the stage, their soft faces blanched
in the footlight glow, their laughter close to tears,
their tears confused with their diamond earrings,
their warm pooled breath in and out with your heartbeat,
their response and your performance twinned.
The jokes over the phone. The memories packed
in the rapid-access file. The whole act.
Who will do it again? That’s it; no one;
imitators and descendants aren’t the same.