3

Dolores smiles a little wider—but the smile falls off slightly as she casts a look around the living room. Sighing, she gestures to the space full of people and says:

"You get used to this kind of thing as you get older. Or, at least, you get familiar with it. It's never easy, no matter how many people you know die. But at least in Eliot's case, I know for a fact that he didn't want any memorial of his to be a morbid affair. I worked under him at the Town Hall at one point, long in the distant past, and he was a strong believer in the idea that life goes on. Even after…well, anyway, I feel much the same way. Everything doesn't need to stop for you to feel grief. But, I suppose it's different for everybody. I just know I wouldn't want anybody to feel like they can't enjoy themselves until some weeks or months or years have passed after I go."

Her expression is thoughtful as she takes in the gathered people. You weren't quite expecting to have this sort of conversation just now—but as you look about you for a moment as well, you start to think about Dolores's words as well. After a little silence, you say: