Gatsby dies and no one mourns. His funeral is empty and dead-silent — no hushed remembrances, no rousing eulogy, no whimpers or sobs save the weepy patter of rain overhead. The unattended ceremony adds insult to the most permanent of all injuries. It’s a second death: the first of body, the second of legacy. Thank goodness, then, that Jimmy Gatz’ fate didn’t befall Sharon Jones, the incandescent funk-soul singer who passed away last November at age 60 after a lengthy battle with pancreatic cancer.