When I was in my teens in the sixties, I sometimes went on dates, but that never seemed to be the case for my daughter Pagan. She ran with a herd. Blue, Sharon, Lee, Anna, Jay, Earl, Michael, Ellie, Leigh Ann, so many more. They became members of my family, and I was always most impressed with Pagan's taste in people. Lee could take an old car that appeared to be unable to leave the driveway, and nurse it all the way to Alaska and back. Anna grew a vegetable garden in my yard and made it produce tons of wonders, much more than I could ever do in the salt air, hard clay, and sandy non-soil of Willoughby Spit. Leigh Ann was like a force of nature. Blue was/is incredibly gifted. I could go on.

I have to admit, though, secretly, Jay was always my favorite. Maybe because he did not treat me like some random grownup, or somebody's Mom, but like a person worth knowing? We could have good conversations at every encounter. He did not stereotype me. What a rarity. He was so fine.

I think this may have been his special gift.

Pagan and I eventually moved away, but I remember when, maybe eight years ago? We were both back in Norfolk, and we shared a beer with Jay at some sidewalk place on Colley Avenue. Somehow that was the highlight of our visit. I don't remember if we even looked up anybody else. The important thing was to connect with Jay. And he was still our darling Jay. I can call up this memory with total clarity.

Last summer, I moved back to Willoughby after about a decade away. Three days before I left for my winter home in India, Jay invited me to spend an evening pub-crawling in Ghent. All the bartenders seemed to know him, but in a good way. We stayed up late and ended up smoking guess what on my roof deck, admiring the Bay. (Using an apple, as nobody had anything else and there was one in my fridge.) I hate to admit this, as I have not indulged in that particular pleasure for about forty years! But that was one of the best dates I have ever been on, and I did not want it to end. I would have swung from the shower rod and whistled "Maytime." I will never forget that night. Jay was such a gentleman.

As I packed for five months in India,  I promised myself that the moment I was back in Virginia, Jay would be the first call I made. I wanted so bad to have another date, even if I am old enough to be his mother. Fun is fun. A good friend is someone who does not care about your antiquity, your obesity, or your bad habits - and Jay had become, in my mind, one of my oldest and dearest friends.

And now Jay is gone. And Lee! How could that happen. And Anna! Jay was so devastated. All three, way too soon, with tragedy and heartache attached. I miss them all, and  I have not forgotten Lee or Anna ever, but I now yearn for Jay's presence in an intense and lasting way, with memories of good times, and such a longing to see him again.

I trust his next life will once again be one filled with love, with much affection for his family, with service to others, with good humor and smarts and music and strong bonds of friendship, and...  sheer delight. And trust in God.

Fair winds, Jay. I hope we meet again. You were important to me.

Pagan, thank you for having such amazing friends. So fortunate to  get to be your mom!

Kathy Hill

Meherabad, near Ahmednagar, Maharashtra, India