My friend, Jim, will undoubtedly end up somewhere with a typewriter, a stage, a cocktail and an adoring public. My mind is full of memories as I sit in this cold chapel, surrounded by strangers and friends alike, all who loved him so dearly. It is, without exception, the most glorious service I've ever attended - there are tears, to be sure, but there is also laughter and story telling - the sadness we feel at his absence is mixed with the joy at having known him. My daddy might not have completely approved of laughter at a funeral but I think he'd have understood and been glad for it. And Jim - well, he loved the spotlight. The only time I cry is during the playing of Captain Hook's Waltz when I'm instantly transported back in time to a small, dark community theatre, to what he always said was his favorite role. It was the night I fell hopelessly in love with a pirate and I'm not sure I ever got completely over it.
I'm not sure I ever wanted to.
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