Not in any morbid (particularly) sense but Death has been around a lot this year.
It began early – at an event on the saltchuck – when one of the competitors died. For good or ill he was functionally dead when he hit the water, according to the coroner there was no salt water in the persons lungs, and that means there was no shock-induced intake of water.
While only peripherally involved, two arm spans apart at one point, there was Death.
A little while later I met one of Death’s more delightful emissaries. She was very casual, very professional, and her delightful daughter provided almost comic relief. Invited to help the passing of an old, and very faithful friend, Death’s blonde emissary played her role beautifully. There was a brief introduction, an assurance to all that this was truly the way to go.
Gentle talk, gentle time, no more pain.
Ryder lives on in our memories.
But Death’s emissary showed just how close, how easy, how acceptable death might be.
Then my mother died. Finally. And that makes 3. Personally, it was about time, and when it is my time I’d rather go by my own hand than drag on for years and years.
Number four? The mother of a dear friend. Another mother/child relationship with life-long issues, but one where tears were shed.
Number five was the one I wrote of in my last entry. Wishing my person alive, at the expense of someone else’ person, and mine was alive. Odd that there is some moral unease.
There’s not much left to the year, I hope to spend it without Death making a command performance.