Definitely down for some wailing. My ululations are not very good.

My ululations are not very good.

No first editions for you, missy!

::wails::

A thing that comforts me that I typically think is too weird to tell people about is that if I take the physics concept of the space-time continuum as literally representing reality the past is not just something we remember but actually existing (outside time, so while I like to use the word "still" in my head it does not really apply but something like that) we just can't get there any more. And not being able to get there can hurt, but thinking it is "out there" makes me feel better.

I think this all the time. In fact, I've been thinking about what to say at Jacqueline's funeral and usually it starts with, "I don't believe in an after life, but I do believe in Einstein's Theory of General Relativity..."

That's very good

That's very good

It actually informs what I'm planning to do with Jacqueline's remains after she's cremated. (Just never really liked the word "cremains." It's a portmanteau that reminds me of Cronuts.)

I had been wondering what to do with her ashes. Then I remembered something she said, angrily, after the initial diagnosis: "I just want to live in this house and write in the attic!"

And I thought, "I kind of want her to haunt our house. If I'm going to tie her spirit anywhere I want it to be here."

Then I thought, "I suppose I could sprinkle her ashes over the Guinea Pig cemetery in the backyard. I mean, if she's going to be joined with piggies in eternity that wouldn't be the worst thing."

But that seemed disrespectful.

Then I thought, I could get a beautiful funerary urn. Something Art Nouveau, or Arts and Crafts movement, and I could put the urn on her desk in the attic. And if people wanted to be with her they wouldn't have to go to a graveyard they could go sit at her desk.

And I thought, I could have a stack of post cards there and people could write a note to her. That would be a good way to be with her.

It made me happy to think that according to Einstein she will have always been in this house and would always will be here. That it's only because I'm limited by human senses that I can only see forward on the timeline, only the cusp of time arriving and not backwards that I can't see her. But she's here. And we are here.

That’s a beautiful idea, David.

But that seemed disrespectful.

Not remotely.

And I thought, I could have a stack of post cards there and people could write a note to her. That would be a good way to be with her.

I want so much to come do that.

It made me happy to think that according to Einstein she will have always been in this house and would always will be here.

My friend who is an actual clairvoyant...there's proof...agrees with Al on this front.

Oh, that's so lovely!

David, that is truly lovely.

You start an improv game with a brilliant, cute, hilarious, stylish girl and you do it for twenty years and it'll spoil you for playing with anybody else.

I mean, hell yes. I love that you had twenty and I hate that you didn’t have more.