Isaac couldn’t go on, or maybe that was all he had written.
After a high school friend told some stories about Gus’s considerable basketball talents and his many qualities as a teammate,
the minister said, “We’ll now hear a few words from Augustus’s special friend, Hazel.”
Special friend? There were some titters in the audience, so I figured it was safe for me to start out by saying to the minister, “I was his girlfriend.”
That got a laugh. Then I began reading from the eulogy I’d written.
There’s a great quote in Gus’s house, one that both he and I found very comforting: Without pain, we couldn’t know joy.
I went on spouting bullshit Encouragements as Gus’s parents, arm in arm, hugged each other and nodded at every word.
Funerals, I had decided, are for the living.
After his sister Julie spoke, the service ended with a prayer about Gus’s union with God,
and I thought back to what he’d told me at Oranjee, that he didn’t believe in mansions and harps,
but did believe in capital-S Something, and so I tried to imagine him capital-S Somewhere as we prayed,
but even then I could not quite convince myself that he and I would be together again.
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