At Lear's end, Edgar stands in the midst of death and, ashamed, tries as best he can to muddle through. After all, "the weight of this sad time we must obey / Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say." Thankfully, I am not Edgar and, despite my sadness, am not ambivalent about this death. Greg Hornecker is an admirable man and not Lear, despite the size of his spirit, probity, and love of the law. What I feel and might ought to say are identical. I asked his advice on many things and he responded thoughtfully and with respect despite my inexperience. He never pressed, except for the opportunity to offer a gift or kindness. He loved children: his, theirs, and the community's. He found a way, when my son died, to let me know that, in his kingdom, all my feelings were honest and would have time and space for expression. He also communicated without words that the future does not die with the dead and that the time to allow the sun to rise again may come as unexpectedly as did the dark.

Ok. Fine. He might suggest, now that he is the beloved dead: I'll miss you too. Move on.

So. I'll honor Greg not by doing what he told me to do, because he never told me what to do. Instead, I'll do as he did. I'll do what I admire in him. When someone is in need I'll do my best to help them take care of themselves. When they do me a disservice I'll do my best to let it become a part of a past we can both laugh about. When someone shows me kindness I'll return it many times over. And when I die, maybe somebody else will say something they thought about for a while, feel the loss of me, and move on into tomorrow with the desire to love his people a little more.