In Writing

This week I am mourning the death of someone. It was unexpected and shocking, happening in a way I would have never imagined possible. It feels premature, as I thought I’d know this person for a long time. But now he’s dead and I will never see him again.

Unexpected death is strange. The world continues as it is, not taking note of the seismic shift that’s happened. No one is essential to the Earth spinning on its axis, of course, so continue on it does even after a person is ashes. You’re left with a hole where a person used to be but the world at large takes no notice.


I’ve always thought Jews had the best rituals for marking the line between the living and the dead. I tear my garment and I cover the mirrors.






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