As they gathered Wednesday to mourn after a devastating house fire, late-afternoon light streamed through stained glass and onto hundreds of friends, relatives and schoolmates of the Annapolis couple and their grandchildren who died in the blaze.
Don Pyle, 56, his wife, Sandra, 63, and their grandchildren Lexi Boone, 8; Katie Boone, 7; Charlotte Boone, 8; and Wes Boone, 6, died Jan. 19.
Since the fire, the family has mostly sought privacy, but the memorial service Thursday evening showed how many connections the Pyles had in their community. Nearly 20 rows of pews at the large St. John Neumann Roman Catholic Church in Annapolis were filled.
A priest and deacon invited prayer and offered guidance on how to cope with the almost incomprehensible loss, but it was the memories that unspooled over an hour and a half and painted a picture of a loving, successful clan that formed the heart of the service.
The speakers at the service recalled flourishes of extravagance, such as trips to Ravens games by private jet and the team's cheerleaders at the grandchildren's birthdays, but also simpler treats, such as Sandra Pyle determining that Tastykakes were an acceptable breakfast food for her grandchildren.
"My aunt and uncle weren't exactly normal," said Sean Grogg — in fact, he said, Sandra Pyle signed Christmas cards "Aunt Crazy."
The Pyles' vast waterfront home was the center of the family's world. Built with money Don Pyle earned as a successful seller of high-tech products, it came to be known as "the Castle." But the couple also opened the house to charity events and parties, and Sandra Pyle adopted an open-door policy with her guests.
Stacie Wollman, a longtime friend of the Pyles, recalled that during one fundraiser, people were nosing around the couple's bedroom and private bathroom. Pyle shrugged it off saying, "Ah, it's OK."
"She had an amazing trust of people," Wollman said.
Sandra Pyle also loved animals, especially dogs. And while she was not much of a cook, Wollman recalled Pyle sending her husband off to the supermarket to pick out choice cuts of meat for the dogs' dinner. She also took to researching food for the wild animals that lived where the Pyles had built their home and fed them, too, Wollman said — "just like Snow White."
Don Pyle's friend Vic Roy described a man assertive in his business dealings — he had an "always be closing" mentality, Roy said — but big-hearted at home, especially once grandchildren came along.
Roy said people knew Pyle was dependable. "He always knew a lot of people were counting on him," Roy said.
In the church, pictures of the couple were placed on one side of the altar; on the other side were images of the children, their smiles beaming.
Cathy North, an administrator at the Severn School, where the children were students, described Wes as an inventor, getting his class to build a robot out of recycled materials. When it was too delicate to be made to move, he convinced his teacher they should build little robots that could move instead.
His sister Charlotte was an animal lover like her grandmother, with a soft spot for horses and a way of making her pet guinea pig a feature of almost every school project.
One time, North said, she spotted a new teacher during recess and went straight up to her. "You're going to love it here," the girl said. "It's a really happy place."
Katie loved to sing and dress up, and felt as comfortable in an outlandish costume as she did in her school uniform, North said. Her exuberance became a problem during games of hide-and-seek, recalled Don Pyle's niece, Shelli Grogg, because her giggles would give her away.
Lexi had a sense of fun and impressed people with her moon-walking ability. One time, North said, she showed up in class explaining that she needed glasses. In fact, her vision was fine, but she wore the spectacles until a day when she declared that her eyes had improved.
Sean Grogg described visiting the family home and watching the children grow. He called their deaths "unfathomable."
"As much as I cherished the memories I had with them," he said, "I never expected them to be the only ones."
When the school choir stood to sing for the final time, some in the pews dabbed at tears and others held one another. Outside the sun had set, and the light was gone from the stained glass.