Death has been a constant companion for the last three years. And while it hasn’t been easy to watch my parents attend the funerals of long-time friends, it’s even more disconcerting on my end, saying goodbye to former schoolmates, who are way too young for that final exit.
But for whatever reason, the fabulous forties have evolved into the terrifying decade of turbulence. My own personal struggles became unmanageable once I turned forty, and it was the fierce determination to not throw in the towel, that empowered my current status.
My acute awareness of how our imminent demise is much closer than we can ever imagine is a hovering reminder that’s no longer a morbid exercise in reality.
And when the phone call delivers the unexpected news about yet another contact from your youth, who succumbed to a terminal disease, the unfortunate news reaffirms the brutality of what we were born to endure.
When I was left alone to process what I had just been told, my mind produced images of the most memorable interactions I had with her. We were 16-year-olds who both fancied the same cute boy, who happened to be the cousin of our friend. The friction started when the cute boy made it clear that he liked me more.
We didn’t keep in touch after boarding school because quite frankly, that period in my…
