Copyright 2012 by
I just turned 30 recently. Yesterday I attended my 15th funeral.
That’s quite a pace.
One every two years, if you average it out, though fate is hardly that symmetrical. If you extrapolate that over, say, an 80 year life span, that’s 40 eulogies. Forty fewer people in my life than when I started.
That’s what life does, in its rawest form. It eliminates people. Ironically, in many areas, thinning the herd, winnowing out the weak, paring away the fat, often contributes to a better all-around product.
Not with death. With each funeral service, there is less of me. I feel my soul get lighter, emptier. With one less kindred soul to feed off of, my spirit can’t help but wither and eventually die. It is perhaps the most vicious of all the cycles of life. The older I get, the more I desire succor and a warm presence, and yet life almost guarantees there will be fewer people in my life to provide it. I will die wanting.