Wednesday, October 01, 2008

Book-Ends

I have known, for almost all of my life, that people, no matter how beautiful, how gifted, how beloved, vanish. That the universe is a hazardous and uncertain place.

October 1960. I am seven. My mother and brother are gone.

October 2008. I am fifty-five. My son is gone.

Baring war, holocaust, or natural disaster, what are the chances?

Perhaps I am intended to uncover a new solidarity with survivors of the foregoing: war, etc.

But I can be forgiven, I think, for at the moment anticipating the future with little more than dread.

3 comments:

Presbyterian Gal said...

(o)

Sally said...

(((Gannet Girl))))

Carol said...

{{{{{{{GG}}}}}}}}}}. Anticipating the future at all is a baby step. Thinking of you as this always difficult month unfolds.