CHAPTER TWELVEThe memorial was simple. A couple of people who had worked or volunteered with Linda gave eulogies. Although I knew Linda had given a lot of time to the environmental movement, listening to the details from people who had worked closely with her made me sorry that I hadn’t shared her enthusiasm. While it’s customary to say only the nicest things about people after they die, I didn’t think Linda’s goodness was being oversold. I managed to get through the service without losing it, primarily by distracting myself with random thoughts—bar stools, bed sheets, backgammon—but, though I remained outwardly composed, inside I felt empty and regretful over the opportunities I had missed to spend time with her.
The front rows were allowed to empty first. When I saw Del Vecchio rushing
