I didn’t attend your memorial service. I was sick. I wouldn’t have gone anyway. I did watch it online though. The last image of you in the photo gallery still haunts me. I want to turn away. Instead, I return to it over and over, searching for you. Against the glare of a late afternoon sky, you stand in front of the sports arena, in the shadow of the massive bronze statue of Magic Johnson. The hoopster’s jersey and shorts ripple under his powerful

If you had peered through the front window on a recent summer evening, you’d have seen the day’s last light filtering onto the living room rug, and a lamp burning on a table in the near corner. Beside it, an elderly man, still