Slightly somber

I know they look somber, but Reese and the dog are just tired. They had just crawled out of bed. I'm the one that's somber. . .

Paul. Paul Edwards Brooks. My very first friend when I moved to Maine, forty something years ago. He was my very best friend, too. We both lived on Ocean View Road, his grandparents lived across the street from me. We did everything together. Cream horns from the Cookie Jar, endless hours at Casino Beach, kick ball every night after dinner. I went to his funeral today. He died from a massive heart attack New Year's Eve, a day before his 54th birthday. I can't get his laugh out of my head. I can't believe I'll never see him again.

I have to say, it was one of the nicest funerals I've ever attended. It was truly a celebration of his generous, gregarious life. How often are you standing on your feet at the end of a service, clapping your hands to the music of a trumpeter and pianist playing When The Saints Come Marching In? Paul would have loved it.