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Reeve died at 5:20 p.m. of cardiac failure, brought on by a raging infection that had spread from a bed sore.
And yet the night before had been, for Reeve, a typical one. He watched Will’s hockey game not far from home. ("He tried to go to all of Will’s sporting events," says Reeve’s longtime friend, photographer Ken Regan.) Then the two had been driven back to the house and watched the Yankees-Twins game. Now on Tuesday, Oct. 12, the family, including his father, Frank Reeve, a writer, and mother, Barbara Johnson, now remarried, assembled there for a private memorial, along with friends like Robin Williams and Robert Kennedy Jr. "The stories people told were all uplifting and powerful," says one friend who attended.
All had come to acknowledge Reeve’s heroic tugging against – defiance of – the terrible, mortal restrictions that had affected his life ever since the accident shattered the top of his spine nearly 10 years ago. "He wanted to make his mark," says actress Blair Brown, a friend for many years. "Now it’s indelible."
