And I walked back to my seat, and Daniel was crying openly by then, in front of his brother and his mother and everybody, which that man does not do.
He Had Written Seven Pages and He Put Them Down and Didn’t Read a Word of Them
He got back to the microphone and looked at the paper in his hand, and then he folded it and put it in the pocket.
“So I actually wrote a eulogy.”
He picked up a stack off the podium.
“Seven pages.”
And from Jack’s friends, Mbeki said out loud: “Jeez, Theo.”
Theo laughed.
“Right? Exactly. Jack would have hated it. He’d have fallen asleep.”
He set it aside.
“So I’m not reading it.”
And Then He Just Talked, and It Was Almost Entirely Not About Cancer
He told the room about the time they were twelve and put a hockey puck through our garage window, and then spent three hours constructing increasingly elaborate explanations before settling on a bird.
