Robert.
“We may have a tough time convincing him to go with us,” Diana suggested reasonably, “but we"ve got plenty of time to talk about it. Let's just go ahead and rent it, and discuss it with him later.” And by then, she suspected, John would have relented too. But it was so sad to think of the five of them going, and not Anne. It was inconceivable to think that she would no longer be with them.
The Donnallys went home shortly after that, and they called Robert at Jeff's and told him that they were thinking of him. But he was too upset to talk to them for very long, and Pascale could hear that he'd been crying. All day in fact, and she wished there was something she could do for him, but there wasn't. She promised to meet him at the funeral home the next day for the “viewing.” The funeral had been set for Tuesday. Robert had had Jeff call Anne's partners in the law firm, and his daughters-in-law had called long lists of people to tell them, before the obituary came out the next day, on Sunday. Robert had written it himself, and Mike had dropped it off at The New York Times that afternoon.
It was incomprehensible, Robert thought to himself, as he got into the bed in Jeff and Elizabetf's guest room. He felt completely disoriented from grief, and crying, and lack of food, and as he lay there thinking about her, he had never in his entire life felt so devastated or so lonely. Thirty-eight wonderful years had ended in a single instant. And Robert was absolutely sure, without a specter of a doubt, that his life was over too.
3
Anne's funeral was held at St James Church on Madison Avenue on Tuesday afternoon. Robert sat in the front pew with his children, his daughters-in-law, and all five of his grandchildren were there, as were his four best friends.
The church was filled with people who knew both of them, people Anne had worked with, clients, classmates, and old friends. And Robert looked grief-stricken as he entered, with his daughter on his arm. They were both crying, as were his sons. And in the silence of the church, the people closest to them could hear Pascale sob. John sat stoically next to her, with silent tears coursing down his cheeks.
The Morrisons sat next to them in the second pew, with damp eyes, silently holding hands. It was inconceivable to all of them that Anne was gone. The sacred circle of their friendship had been disrupted, an important piece was missing now. They had all lost a cherished friend.
The service was brief and touching, and when they emerged from the church to follow the casket to the hearse, it was snowing outside. It had already been a hard winter, but this particular day seemed exceptionally bleak. Robert went to the cemetery with his children, and left Anne there, after a few brief words from the minister, who had known them since they were married. And then Robert said his last good-byes. He looked like a zombie as he finally walked, with blind eyes, toward the car.
And after the cemetery, all of them went to the Morrisons", to have lunch with the people the Morrisons had invited to be with them. Robert looked as though he was on autopilot as he moved through the crowd, and before anyone left, he disappeared. He didn't even tell his children when he left. John Donnally took him home, and hated to leave him there, so he stayed.
Robert sat down heavily on the couch and stared into space. He was too bereft at that moment in time to even cry.
He just sat, with unseeing eyes.
“Can I get you anything?” John asked quietly, wishing Pascale were there. She was so much better at this kind of thing. But he had sensed correctly that Robert hadn't wanted anyone else there, probably not even John.
“No, thanks.” John wasn't sure if he should stay for a while, and just sit with him, or leave. And Robert said nothing at all. Not knowing what else to do, John got him a glass of water and set it in front of him, which Robert appeared not to see. And then finally, he leaned his
“We may have a tough time convincing him to go with us,” Diana suggested reasonably, “but we"ve got plenty of time to talk about it. Let's just go ahead and rent it, and discuss it with him later.” And by then, she suspected, John would have relented too. But it was so sad to think of the five of them going, and not Anne. It was inconceivable to think that she would no longer be with them.
The Donnallys went home shortly after that, and they called Robert at Jeff's and told him that they were thinking of him. But he was too upset to talk to them for very long, and Pascale could hear that he'd been crying. All day in fact, and she wished there was something she could do for him, but there wasn't. She promised to meet him at the funeral home the next day for the “viewing.” The funeral had been set for Tuesday. Robert had had Jeff call Anne's partners in the law firm, and his daughters-in-law had called long lists of people to tell them, before the obituary came out the next day, on Sunday. Robert had written it himself, and Mike had dropped it off at The New York Times that afternoon.
It was incomprehensible, Robert thought to himself, as he got into the bed in Jeff and Elizabetf's guest room. He felt completely disoriented from grief, and crying, and lack of food, and as he lay there thinking about her, he had never in his entire life felt so devastated or so lonely. Thirty-eight wonderful years had ended in a single instant. And Robert was absolutely sure, without a specter of a doubt, that his life was over too.
3
Anne's funeral was held at St James Church on Madison Avenue on Tuesday afternoon. Robert sat in the front pew with his children, his daughters-in-law, and all five of his grandchildren were there, as were his four best friends.
The church was filled with people who knew both of them, people Anne had worked with, clients, classmates, and old friends. And Robert looked grief-stricken as he entered, with his daughter on his arm. They were both crying, as were his sons. And in the silence of the church, the people closest to them could hear Pascale sob. John sat stoically next to her, with silent tears coursing down his cheeks.
The Morrisons sat next to them in the second pew, with damp eyes, silently holding hands. It was inconceivable to all of them that Anne was gone. The sacred circle of their friendship had been disrupted, an important piece was missing now. They had all lost a cherished friend.
The service was brief and touching, and when they emerged from the church to follow the casket to the hearse, it was snowing outside. It had already been a hard winter, but this particular day seemed exceptionally bleak. Robert went to the cemetery with his children, and left Anne there, after a few brief words from the minister, who had known them since they were married. And then Robert said his last good-byes. He looked like a zombie as he finally walked, with blind eyes, toward the car.
And after the cemetery, all of them went to the Morrisons", to have lunch with the people the Morrisons had invited to be with them. Robert looked as though he was on autopilot as he moved through the crowd, and before anyone left, he disappeared. He didn't even tell his children when he left. John Donnally took him home, and hated to leave him there, so he stayed.
Robert sat down heavily on the couch and stared into space. He was too bereft at that moment in time to even cry.
He just sat, with unseeing eyes.
“Can I get you anything?” John asked quietly, wishing Pascale were there. She was so much better at this kind of thing. But he had sensed correctly that Robert hadn't wanted anyone else there, probably not even John.
“No, thanks.” John wasn't sure if he should stay for a while, and just sit with him, or leave. And Robert said nothing at all. Not knowing what else to do, John got him a glass of water and set it in front of him, which Robert appeared not to see. And then finally, he leaned his
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