Trevor died Sunday June 30th, and the memorial service was July 10th. It was at the local park where Trevor played baseball. Yesterday was hot and sunny. A gorgeous day at the park. I went early, a good hour before the service started, and there were already dozens and dozens of people there, along with a TV crew. I asked a friend of the family to point out Trevor's parents to me.

They were gracious. They were kind. But, god, they looked so ... tired. And so awfully sad. And it looked as though they weren't all there. There was some huge part of them that was ... elsewhere. Which, of course, is exactly the case. Their eldest son was "elsewhere".

I felt like some sort of freakish intruder. My daughter had gone to school with Trevor, but she wasn't with me. Just my son. "Is it okay," I ventured, hesitatingly, to Trevor's mom "if I use Trevor's name in the letters I'm sending out to people?" She understood my hesitancy and waved it off. "Yes, absolutely." she said. "If Trevor's death can somehow help make things better for others..."

It was a lovely day. Lovely people. But, god, it was still so sad. Somehow the gorgeous setting and weather made it sadder. More poignant.