On a perfect Saturday afternoon in July we gathered on the bluffs above Blacks Beach in San Diego in honor of James. We ate and talked and laughed and ate some more. There were no speeches, no testimonials. We just enjoyed the afternoon and the food and each others' company and the common bond of having loved James, each in our own way. After most of the food was gone this photo was taken. Then part of James' ashes that had been sent back from his family in New Jersey were put into a backpack along with those of Sunshine, a canine friend of Terry's that had passed last year. A few of the guys that surfed took James and Sunshine down to the beach and out into the ocean and spread their ashes into the waves while the rest of us watched from the bluff. I hope everyone there found this all to be as much of a comfort, of a reassurance, as I did. James died about midnight on a Thursday night and over the next 2 days a large group of his friends came in and cleared out all of his things. They were physically and emotionally exhausted but determined and thorough. In the long run I'm glad they were so efficient, but when they left Saturday afternoon I was left in the middle of a half empty apartment looking around wondering where did my friend go? Just 2 weeks earlier we were talking and laughing with friends enjoying Courtney's fabulous cooking. Now, along with his stuff, his presence, the energy and vitality he brought to the place, felt deflated like a balloon. I found myself wandering around looking for signs of James. So when I got to the memorial and all these people kept showing up with food and children and dogs and smiles, I realized he was there. He was there in the sunshine and the breeze and the surf. He was there in everyone's smiles, eyes, laughter, wagging tails, and the chocolate smeared all over little Aubrey's face.
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