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We put Louis to rest yesterday. He had traded his grave for a mausoleum recently, and the funeral was held in the interior chapel. Thankfully, it was air-conditioned. That chapel contains the urn of my high-school friend who died of AIDS 13 years ago. I didn't know he was there until I found his urn. I think he's next to his dad, who died in May.

The visitation on Tuesday night was in the same funeral-home room as Dad's, and I found myself standing in the exact same spot for three hours as we welcomed the mourners. No time could have passed at all. The only difference was that Louis was in the coffin instead of standing to my left. Your Sis drove down to make sure Mom and I had supper, and she drove back up the mountain that same night. She's insane and wonderful.

Mom is OK. I think she's mad at Louis, as I am. I'll go back Saturday to help her clean his house. I drove back home yesterday and barely slept last night. I'm exhausted. I'm afraid to drink coffee lest I become a jittery zombie. We saw Dad's grave as we left the cemetery.

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