That’s the way the story starts. Death is on my mind tonight. My beloved Godmother, Grace, died on May 3rd. And I just learned today about the deaths of two of my friends.
Cecile, I knew was sick, but it never occurred to me she might die. She did, fairly suddenly, this week.
Barbara, I have gone along holding in my heart, the way we do those people we care about, but don’t often see . Having imagined conversations. Thinking, I should really call her one of these days. “Is Barbara going to be coming to the 1,000 Hummingbirds gathering this weekend?” I asked Jaime today. “Barbara? Oh, my goodness, she died three years ago. You didn’t know?” What a strange feeling, to discover that the connection I’ve felt to Barbara all this time was actually cut off years ago. Like the light from stars – it takes so long to reach us from out in the universe, we might be looking at a star that actually died eons ago.
My friend Cecile and I were talking with each other about the stories we were going to write, last time I saw her. Her story would have been wonderful. But she died without telling it. I feel such urgency to finish writing mine! How much time have any of us got, individually, and as a species? “The hour is getting late,” and we are all stardust.
It’s always good to read. It’s almost as good as experiencing the actual event. Promotes wisdom, whatever that is, and keeps you off the street. And, it is low in fossil fuel consumption. The story is a lot of autobiography, so most of it is real. The rest is real by metaphor. Great syntax.
Thanks so much for this story. My uncle Eric died recently, but my memories of him are still very much alive. He continues to recite limericks and quotes from Lewis Carroll, and his eyes still twinkle from somewhere deep in the chasms of time and space.