One of the problems for me as a bereaved friend, and in face of the death of somebody as dear to me as you were, is of course the sadness and pain at the profound loss of a long-standing pillar in
one’s life. Even if that was not always consciously attended to. In our case, if I may be so possessive for a moment, so much of me seems to have died with you that I am unsure of who I really am now. It occurred to me just today to write to you in your heavenly abode in an attempt to recover how much of your living, loving and healing power had been integrated into me over our seventy years plus of personal closeness. Of course we both had other close friends over the years based on shared interests in theology or for any number of other reasons. Sometimes a friend became for me a beloved poem to which I returned regularly for challenge and enrichment. This seemed to me particularly apt in our friendship given your persona, love of and expertise in music, poetry and drama, and your particular writing style, all less common among theologians of my acquaintance and friendship.