This is my attempt at hope--not one of the thousands of women and children lost during the General Slocum disaster in New York, but one who survived. Lately I have had an ear for the morbid, I am afraid, having recenlty toured the Wisconsin death trip of 1898 (on paper), complete with eerie images of the deceased. I have always heard that meditating on death is life-transforming, and I do hope that it is. I hope your time brings a breath of air into your life, and life and lives.
I hope to one day be an old person who is ready for death. Right now I fear it mightily and were it to come I would hold on to the doorframe on the way out. I held a baby today, a beautiful, tiny baby, and watched as the new parents packed up their home for a new life. I thought of all the wonders that await them, and the moments of intense suffering. What is important, I think, is that we are not alone.
I envy the space and time you will find, my friend, and the adventure. Give my best regards(and I mean that sincerely) to your dead.
