Gaits of Heaven

themselves as such: I’m Wee Foote, Ted and Eumie’s couples therapist. Nixie Needleman, Eumie’s therapist. Alex Tortorello, Ted’s therapist. Missy Zinn used the phrase “part of the team.” Quinn Youngman said that he was “one of the helpers.” Not everyone was a therapist. Patients of Eumie’s presented themselves as such, as did some patients of Ted’s. Some used the word client. Some were “seeing” Eumie or Ted. We heard from Eumie’s personal shopper, her personal trainer, and her Reiki healer. Quite a few people were, as Caprice had told me, parents from the Avon Hill School. George McBane and Barbara Leibowitz described themselves as friends and neighbors. I just said that I helped with Dolfo. With the exception of Caprice, not a single person there was a blood relative of Eumie’s, and the only relative of Ted’s was his son, Wyeth, who was, in effect, excused from participation in the introductory ritual. When the boy’s turn came, Ted spoke for him: “And Wyeth, of course. Eumie’s beloved stepson, right, boychick?”
    Now that the introductions were complete—it was twenty minutes after nine—Ted invited all of us to share our memories of Eumie. “My Eumie,” he said, "mayn basherter, my soul mate, is what we call a yenta, a busybody, in the best sense of the word. She meets somebody, anybody, she cares. She’s got to know the person, got to know everything, understand everything. That’s who she is. Bubee, we love you for it and...” When he’d finished going on at considerable length, he finally invited people to speak to and about Eumie.
    The first person to accept the invitation was a frail young woman with a beatific smile who’d been Eumie’s muscular therapist and who described the tension locked in Eumie’s body and the progress she’d made in releasing herself from the bonds of her armor. But, she concluded, trauma had triumphed. A parent from the Avon Hill School talked about Eumie’s love of children and her commitment to excellence. Another parent praised her generosity. George, who’d been grumbling almost inaudibly about having an eight o’clock patient the next morning and wanting to get to bed, took Barbara’s hand and walked with her to the front of the room. Far from addressing Eumie, they spoke of her in the past tense, but their remarks were fond and, by my standards, appropriate to the occasion. They took turns talking about her love of life, her enthusiasm, and her curiosity. “Barbara and Eumie,” George said, “shared a love of birds and the great gift of being able to see them through the eyes of a child. What Eumie saw weren’t so much birds as magical creatures, delightful visions with feathers. She had the great good fortune not to take the magic for granted.” Barbara spoke of Eumie’s pleasure in giving presents. As it turned out, my experience was typical. She’d had a habit of sending flowers, food, books, music, and films only because she’d sensed what her friends would like and had wanted to offer happiness.
    When Barbara and George had finished, they made their way to the back of the room and slipped out through one of the glass doors to the deck. Although someone else had stepped forward and had begun to eulogize Eumie, I followed Barbara and George outside and caught up with them as they were about to go through a gate in the fence that separated their yard and the Brainard-Greens’. Dolfo was, of course, with me. When we reached Barbara and George, he wiggled all over and then cuddled up to Barbara, who stroked his side.
    “I just wanted to tell both of you that that was lovely,” I said. “This gift giving was a part of Eumie that I didn’t know at all. Until today. She’d ordered something for me that was delivered this afternoon.”
    “Eumie had many good qualities,” Barbara said.
    After Barbara and George had wished me good night, I took a few minutes to do a little more work with Dolfo on his sit. This time, I began to cue the behavior (“Dolfo, sit!” plus a signal with my left hand), and Dolfo succeeded in staying for eight seconds. When we got back inside, a woman was testifying to Eumie’s commitment to helping her patients overcome the effects of trauma. As the woman spoke, she began to choke up and then to sob. In horrible pain, she eventually cried, “How could she have abandoned me? How could she?”
    Three people hurried to the heartbroken woman and, with their arms around her, led her away. I