I remember us sitting in the middle of your huge grey van. Our seat-belts were buckled of course, but in that thing it hardly mattered: we rattled around anyway. And then, coming off the bridge, your Dad would call from the driver's seat: "Get ready! It's coming!" Going faster, swoosh up the crest, and, for barely a moment, that clunky, ginormous van was airborne, suddenly graceful. Our stomachs flip-flopped (or mine at least--you were always better on roller-coasters than I). Then clunk, it landed back on the freeway, and we giggled, completely thrilled.
Driving to work this morning, I was alert, but weary. My tears had dried; prayers for the dead recited but not bringing much comfort. Taking an unfamiliar road, I hit a bump, and found myself airborne once again, thanking God for childish glee, and a man who made me laugh and laugh and laugh, and gave me the bravest woman I know as a friend.
Eternal rest grant unto Neil, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, rest in peace.