Resolved, I settle into the lounge chair. I’ve no sooner tucked my feet under my bottom, though, when he comes out of the shadows. I’m not sure where he was hidden, but here he is, sliding a hand from my head down my neck to gesture me forward. Resist, a tiny voice cries. But that quickly I’m lost. Once I’m forward, he swings a leg over the lounge behind me, lowers himself, and draws me back between his raised knees. My head fits into the crook of his neck, but, having surrendered, that isn’t enough for me. I know what’s coming tomorrow and need an infusion of strength. Jack has always offered that. Turning sideways, I wrap my arms around his middle and press my face to the spot under his jaw where stubble ends. The scent of his skin is as familiar to me as my own, memory and reality for once just the same.

I’m right to dread Tuesday. It is as grueling as I imagined. I’ve always thought myself to be socially adept, certainly when it comes to making small talk. Isn’t that what a peacemaker does? Or a mom sitting with other moms at the Spring Sing at school? Or a photographer whose client trails her from room to room to room?

But endless hours of small talk with a steady stream of people coming to pay respects to my father? Exhausting. Years later, thinking back on this day, I will remember the most glowing of the comments—the people Tom helped, the friendships he held, the justice he served. Paul was right about that. They did capture Tom at his best.

Today, though, it all blurs. As crystal clear as memory and reality were on the lounge chair with Jack last night, not so in the house on Tuesday. Whether I’m in the living room with the pastor, in the kitchen with a high school friend—of whom there were a bunch—or on the front porch with the woman who served as U.S. Attorney for the State of Rhode Island while Dad was on the bench, the moments run together like streaks of sand swamped under an incoming wave. I remember Joy being by my side much of the time. And Paul maintaining a low profile while serving as the impromptu facilitator of the event. And Jack, whose presence may be controversial for Anne but acceptable for the rest of the town.