Love, Death and The Point System
Saturday marked nine years since John died. Rosie and I were in California. It was a beautiful and busy day – we woke in the home of devoted cousins on John’s side, and went to sleep in the home of generous cousins on my side. In between, we visited Santa Clara University, where I communed with my late cousin Paula Kirkeby, who died three years ago of metastatic breast cancer. I found Paula’s bench next to the museum where she donated some of her art collection. Paula was an art dealer, a renegade, large in body and spirit, who made me feel beloved and special despite the generation and continent that separated us. Paula told stories with a particular breathiness, moving from hushed conspiratorial tones to riotous head-thrown-back laughter along with eyerolls, head shakes, hand gesticulations, mock outrage or maybe real outrage. It was always theatrical, always exciting to be in Paula’s orb. Her husband, a tall Dane named Philip who died before Paula did, would greet me with en