Pondering epitaphs

Synchronicity continues. A few months ago, I read a review of The Curfew, by Jesse Ball. The book was highly recommended, said to be beautifully, powerfully written - and the plot was described as a man and his young daughter playing games with words and orange peels and bits of strings while outside their small apartment, all was violent. I put it on hold at the library.

I read it today. It is powerful, well-written, kind of magical in a way. I read the entire thing out loud; the words felt good coming out of my mouth. (And I felt Sandy's presence, so I read for her, too. But it was the kind of book I'd have read out loud anyway.)

But there is a theme through the book that wasn't mentioned in any of the reviews, and that's where synchronicity comes in again. The protagonist thinks a lot about the wife he lost, about grief. One bit I read repeatedly:

What does dying do to plans one makes with one's beloved? It is the advent of lost causes, of pointless journeys, empty rooms, quiet hours.

He is also an epitaphorist, a word and career Ball brilliantly invented. The protagonist visits the loved ones of deceased people and helps them compose epitaphs. It's a lovely occupation, really, an opportunity for poetry and for offering peace.

I know where I want Sandy's memorial bench to be, and soon I'll figure out how to make it happen. But I haven't known what to put on the metal plate to commemorate her. Something about bicycling? Something about love and laughter? One of the epitaphs she joked about? ("It was just here," because she was always losing things, and "What did I say?" because she was frequently clueless when she'd offended someone.)

There was an epitaph in the book that I loved: "Elsewhere and beloved."

Short, sweet, simple, and true.

Or maybe, "Without love, we are lost" - the words that hang above our dining room table, words she chose for our home when we were in Ashland at the Shakespeare Festival.

Or the quote from H.G. Wells "Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the human race."

Everything else has come in its time, almost certainly with her assistance, so I feel pretty confident that I'll know the right epitaph soon. I'm looking forward to finding out what it is.