For 26 years, when we were both here in New York, Carolyn and I walked every Tuesday at exactly 10:15. It remained a duty as rituals do, and among the deepest of my delights. I would meet her at just the same bench at 79th street just off Fifth Avenue, with her dog – the last one was named Lucy -- and if sometimes it turned out to be 10:16 when I got there, well, alright, but at 10:17 it was a bit of not good… Forget anything like 10:20… She was exactitude itself as well as friendship itself.
Their death was not the characteristic thing about them. It was their response to life, and it is by living oneself again that one meets them as they were and keeps in closest touch with them.