Murray memorial

Don Murray's memorial sevice was held yesterday at 2:00 in the Johnson Theater at UNH. I've never actually been to a memorial service -- in fact, I've never been to a funeral that I remember. I was at my Aunt Mary's funeral but was so little that I sang "You Are My Sunshine" to her through a good chunk of the service. Or so I'm told. I don't actually remember. I opted out of the funeral when my grandpa Bill died and when my Grandma Margaret and Grandma Hicks died I was in New Hampshire (it's one of my regrets that I didn't come home for my Grandma Margaret's funeral). All of it is pretty foreign to me. But Don's memorial was pretty much perfect. I think it's what he would have wanted.

I'm not even sure how to talk about it except to say that people told stories that highlighted Don's legendary generosity and spirit, his wicked and sometimes crass sense of humor, and his sheer love of those around him and of writing. The service highlighted Don's love of classical music, but really highlighted our love for him. The theater was absolutely packed -- there were people standing in the aisle. And we all laughted and cried together.

I brought tissues, but didn't really think I'd need them. I was wrong. A few things got me: the slide show before the service was fantastic, but the picture of Don -- the quintessential picture, for me, of him standing, smiling, in front of a bookcase -- was almost too much for me. That's the way I remember him. When Chip Scanlan started to cry, when tom Romano talked about Don finally hugging him (Don wasn't particularly comfortable with physical shows of affection), when Tom Romano said "I love you Don, and I will miss you for the rest of my life," when Don's son-in-law read a piece written by Don's daughter, and when Don's son-in-law and grandsons played a piece entitled "Nulla Dies Sine Linea," that they composed for Don. Those were all rough moments. But more than anything was the moment that I thought, "Man, he is going to love this when I tell him about it." I was sitting there thinking that I just had to call Don and tell him how fantastic this all is. I imagine that's a pretty common response, but I looked up at that picture of him in front of the bookshelf, that big dimpled grin, and just cried.

Don and I weren't especially close -- we'd been to lunch a few times, dinner a few times, I'd been over to his house a few times, and we chatted every once in a while on email, but I feel his absence. When I logged onto my gmail account today I saw "Don Murray" in my contacts list and while that seems like perhaps the most distanced ridiculous way to notice a loss, it was there because he wasn't. Because he never would be again. And because he was a remarkable human being -- not just a remarkable teacher, writer, and scholar, but a truly stunning human. And I will miss him.