Dwight and I were fortunate to see Four Weddings and a Funeral when it screened at Sundance. Last night, after President Obama’s State of the Union Address, I found it on one of the movie channels.

I weep when I see Matthew read Funeral Blues for his true love.

Today, one year and ten days after Dwight passed, I want to give all the dogs a juicy bone and cut off the telephone.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.