Welcome to the World, Baby Girl!

Good-bye

Sag Harbor, Long Island

1977

Lee Kingsley had called Dena and told her they were going to scatter Howard Kingsley’s ashes in a quiet ceremony from his boat, the Lee Anne. “We want you to be there. I know Howard would have liked that, he thought so much of you. So please come.” Dena said she would. They met at the house in Sag Harbor and went aboard the boat around four—Lee, Howard’s daughter, Anne, her husband, and their two children, Howard’s close friend Charles and his wife, and six or seven friends of theirs she didn’t know. Dena had never been to a funeral of any kind before and was frankly nervous about how to act or what was going to happen, but, Lee took over with her usual grace and made everyone feel comfortable. Anne had come up to her right away and said, “I’m so glad you could come and be with us. Dad thought the world of you.”

They rode out and the water was calm and quiet except for the seagulls following the boat. When they dropped anchor, Lee served champagne. A little later, as the sun was beginning to set, Lee stood up. “As you all know, Howard loved this place from the day we came here thirty-seven years ago. He fell in love with the town and the people, and this boat was where he spent some of his happiest hours. When he was particularly troubled he would get in it and just ride around out here for hours. We never talked much about death but I somehow think this is where he would want to be buried. I asked him once why he never went out any further. And he said, ‘Lee, I love to look for miles across the horizon and clear my head and think about what’s beyond but I never want to lose sight of home.’ And I think that’s how he lived. With his eyes on the horizon but never losing sight of home.”

One by one, those present said a few things about Howard. Dena was too moved to say anything. A friend, John, spoke last. “You know, I thought of hundreds of things I could say, things I’d like to say about Howard. About the kind of man he was, the kind of friend. But you know—even now I can hear that old bastard saying, Get on with it, John, we don’t want any of your overblown sentimental schoolgirl prose. So I’ll just say, Good-bye, and safe harbor, old friend.”

The sun was beginning to fade as they watched the mild wind that had suddenly come up blow the ashes across the water and Lee played Howard’s favorite record. For such a serious man, most people would not have guessed the Cole Porter tune was the one he loved to sing. As the last of the ashes disappeared, Fred Astaire sang:

You’re the top … you’re the coliseum

You’re the top … you’re the Louvre museum

You’re a melody from a symphony by Strauss

You’re a Bendel bonnet, a Shakespeare sonnet

You’re Mickey Mouse.

Everyone held up their glasses to toast Howard, except Dena, who totally and unexpectedly lost complete control. She burst into tears and began to sob. She tried to stop but she couldn’t; watching those ashes disappear had triggered something inside her. It was so final.

If anyone was surprised by her sudden burst of emotion, they could not have been more surprised than Dena, who prided herself on control at all costs. She was a master at sidestepping feelings, batting them away, avoiding them. She was horrified. What must they be thinking? I am the one person on this boat who knew him the least. Several people came over to her and she kept saying, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s the matter with me.” One man put his arm around her shoulder and held her up. She knew she was making a fool out of herself but she couldn’t stop. Finally, Lee came over, sat her down, and tried to comfort her. But she was crying harder than she had ever cried in her life, trying not to make noise, trying to stop. Her nose was running and she didn’t have any Kleenex. Oh, God, she wanted to die. They were all going to think she really had had an affair with him, the way she was carrying on.

As they turned and headed home, they saw that boats of many shapes and sizes had lined up behind them. The boats sat silently, motionless in the water, their owners flying their flags at half-mast as a tribute to their neighbor. The boats remained still until after the Lee Anne had passed, then they all rode out in single file and made a slow circle around the area where Howard’s ashes had been scattered and headed back to harbor.

When Dena saw that, she sobbed even more. By the time they got to the house, Dena had to be put on a bed in a room off the living room. Lee brought her a cold, wet washcloth and put it across Dena’s eyes, now red and swollen. “Sorry … I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I’m sorry, really.”

“You just lie here and try and relax,” Lee said. “I’ll be back.”

As Dena tried at last to calm down, she could hear them out in the living room, talking and even laughing, glasses clinking. It was so strange; everyone was working so hard to keep up a brave front, talking about everyday things, as if that would lessen the loss. Dena heard the children in the den throwing a ball to the dog, who was excited to have playmates. It all seemed so unreal. Howard was gone but life went on and all that was left was an empty chair. At that thought she started to cry again.

Lee came back in after a while, sat on the bed, and took her hand. “How are you doing?”

Dena shook her head. “I don’t know … I’m sorry.”

“It’s perfectly OK, Dena, it happens. Something touches you and sets off old memories, some old loss. It’s OK. You just take your time and come on out when you feel like it.”

After Lee left, she tried to think. What in the world was she crying about, so deeply sad about? Could it all be Howard’s dying? She had not cried when she heard the news. She had been upset, but she had not cried. She liked him, she respected him, she would miss him, but not enough to break down like this. Was it something about saying good-bye? Was it about her own father? She didn’t think so; she had not even known him.

What was wrong? Maybe she was just weeping about living in a world without Howard.