The funeral

It was a lovely service. I know that's what everyone says, but it was. Appropriate in honoring grief and loss, but the message was one of resurrection and celebration. Kari sang three gorgeous vocal arrangements - just thrilling when her tremendous voice hits every corner and into the balconies. I don't know how she does it - well, it's her training. But how she stood there one second crying as she talked about being with Jim in his final moments, blowing her nose and weeping, and then nods to the pianist and begins to sing...

I was glad to be one small unimportant person in a huge and wonderfully mixed crowd - our Republican lieutenant governor and two former Democratic governors, architects of our constitution at statehood, business leaders and policy folk alongside commercial fishermen and working guys in their Spenard Builders Supply jackets. Crossing paths as I can imagine Jim would have liked.

On the way home, I had the strangest thing happen. I felt so strongly impressed that there was something more that I should do, and felt like I was being sent to Dirk and Kari's house - of course they were all at the post-funeral dinner and the post-dinner private gathering that went late into the night. I didn't know why until I pulled into my own driveway (I live a few blocks away) and then carried out what was given to me - I went over there and set Jim's regular place for Sunday dinner, and placed a poem on the plate. I'd felt very certain about which one it was supposed to be - the story of the ship, and how when it disappears in the distance and is lost to us, it has only crossed a horizon and there is a glad shout of recognition from those on the other shore.

Yesterday afternoon Kari called to ask whether I'd been at the house, and I fessed up. She told me a lovely story about a photo of Jim on a halibut boat he'd had built. The boatbuilders had used a great photo of him in their advertising - coming into the harbor at Homer with a little wake behind him, waving and smiling from the flybridge as he brought the boat in. Things tie together neatly. She said they'd enjoyed the mystery of wondering how his place at the table had appeared.

Tonight I went over for dinner and it made me feel good to see the place still set when I arrived. Kelly (Jim's wife) was also there briefly and the gesture clearly touched her. I couldn't take any credit for it; it wasn't thoughtful in terms of planning to do something that was just right. I just did as I'd been told. But I felt blessed and warmed by following an impression I didn't understand. I'm glad I followed orders and that I did so immediately. Maybe that means the universe will entrust me with more errands to run.