It's late and I need to sleep, but I wanted to put a few swirling thoughts down.

Today was Greg's funeral and burial. It was both heartfelt and heartbreaking. He was so obviously loved by so many, but it wasn't enough to save him from himself. And as I poured my share of dirt over his coffin, I could only think, "Oh, Greg."

Myung told me two unrelated-but-related things: first, his talk did not go well, and second, Anson moved out. It seems like we're either searching without finding or losing what we'd found.

At the funeral, they read the twenty-third Psalm. I couldn't help but think about the last line, and how goodness and mercy are so often only clearly seen like shining beacons against a background of the darkest night.

Oh, God, come and light my way.