Another member of my family died last week. An uncle who had been a significant part of the fabric of my life since my earliest memories. Giant of a man. Greased hair and sharp tongue. Elvis began and ended the memorial service.
The more that I come to experience bereavement, the more I come to understand that one’s own death is less likely to be a sudden end to all that is alive, rather that it is merely a continuation of a process of erosion. The familiar world forever robbed and degraded by younger generations. Familiar names, faces, voices peeling away one my one so that one’s existence grows somehow hollow. Live long enough and the final breath is merely the husk blowing away.
