May our memories be a blessing
The mysteries of death are at the forefront of my mind this week. It started with the nation's collective vigil during the days Trump abstained from appearing in public, and compounded with the actual deaths of two individuals I've known through my work. First the one who didn't die: What must it be like to live a life in which millions of people await your death with hungry anticipation, scrolling their phones and hoping against hope for a headline which confirms the theories and rumors? What would that feel like? It's hard to imagine anything more terrible, really. We all want the world we leave behind to spend a few moments grieving our loss. We want people to miss our interactions, to recall the good things we've done across the years, to hope that our passing was smooth. We want to be remembered with affection and gratitude. I literally can't imagine what it would be like to know your death will result in rejoicing across the world, dancing, music, actual...
