I Felt So Symbolic Yesterday

This morning, Neil called to tell me his father died last night, just before midnight. Neil's timing was perfect: I was getting ready to walk across the river to the hospital. Plans are in the works for a wake in an Irish bar and restaurant in our old hometown, and for a memorial on the grounds of the unnamed university's gardens. Isabella is going to scatter her husband's ashes in a public place where someone might attempt to discourage her. I volunteered to create the kind of diversion that might get me arrested while she does what she has to do. You know: because.