Melancholy day at Peggy's funeral. Stopped for Betty about 2:00 and we walked the half-block to George's on Ventnor Avenue. George, of course, is the funeral director (mortician? undertaker? What's the euphemism nowadays?) and graduated from St. James with Peggy and us. I was surprised that, aside from Elva B., whom I had called, there were no other St. James Class of -- grads there. Maybe members of our class are mostly where Peggy's going.
There were a moderate number of attendees, mostly family and neighbors from Mirage in Barnegat, where she lived. The Polish priest, Fr. Chris, read the prayers and gave a very nice talk. We were then invited to go across the street to Hannah G.'s restaurant for iced tea, sandwiches, and cookies. George came in and told us Peggy was going to be cremated--something I still can't get my mind around. It's idiocy, I know, but I don't like the idea of cremation. I want to go to the cemetery and plant things and water them.
...which I did when I left Betty's. It was pre-dusk by that time--an appropriately somber time of day for the dead, it seems to me--and I filled my water containers and refreshed both Pat's and Jay's grave.
On the way home, I got a call on my cell from nephew Steve. He told me we'd have to jettison the horror film idea, as he didn't have time to get a director or actor. I'm mildly disappointed, but am okay with it--we discussed doing it next summer when I'll probably be visiting California again.
Later, received a very welcome call from brother Frank (Alameda) to say his son, Patrick, the head and neck surgeon, will be renting a huge house in Avalon in September and they want me to come visit. Hey, great--I think he said they have eight bedrooms, so there'll be plenty of room.