Sunday, June 24, 2018
15/ Beyond Obituaries
People always joke about reaching the age where you read the obituaries most days. I've been at that age for quite some time. But now I'm at the age where people I know well—in my social circle, in my extended family, people I've kept in touch with since childhood, people with whom I email often, people I sang with, dined with, laughed with, workshopped poetry with, shared the minutiae of daily life with—are dying. We don't joke about this.
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My parents lived in Greenwich Village when I was born, but moved to Queens when I was still very young. They chose an apartment in Woodside ... -
1952, age 9: Newly motherless and too young to fully appreciate the effort it must have taken my dad to have a tree and gifts that year, I s...
No, it's not a joking matter. I'm so sorry.
ReplyDeleteI'm reeling from all the death around me lately—primarily in my parents' generation, but it's so much so fast, and I think about death pretty much all the time now. I am sorry you're losing your friends.
ReplyDeleteAn acquaintance remarked to me a few weeks ago that his social life these days was mostly going to funerals and shivas.
ReplyDeleteMy mom used to call me each time one of her friends died, but stopped after it got to be more frequent.