This is the house where they lived she cannot believe the emptiness she wanders from room to room unable to think of words only images only memories half remembered disconnected and frail as wisps in the wind this is the bed they shared his great bulk under the quilted covers she warm against his side her cheek against his shoulder they slept in each other's arms every night when they were young and in love and many since this is the table where they sat together and he ate over his student's papers handed them back with coffee rings and spots of jam adorning the clean pages he loved to read and he loved to eat to consume this is the hall where they hung up pictures of the famous people they met mostly other writers with their arms reaching up around DC's shoulders and there she is faded in the background wearing a shy smile odd to see the way that expression remains over the years frozen on her features like a mask while DC's waistline and DC's smile grow with every year what a beautiful bear of a man somebody said of him once said it to her in private this is the porch where they sat together and looked out over the little lake and beyond the neighbor's cows wandered in the tall grass and the geese flew down to land on the water he loved to look at the animals he loved to observe things he loved most of all to observe people he called it research this is his study where she found him that day and where she can not bear to return. She sits at the table and reads the obituary in the paper the words blur and warp they look unreal look false look like words out of another time and another life. It is with great regret and sadness that we announce the death of Professor David Christopher Glaser our dear friend and colleague professor of English author of eight beloved novels winner of the Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay he leaves behind Joanna Cook-Glaser his beloved wife he will be deeply missed by all who knew him.