EULOGY

Well, my grandmother passed away yesterday. Age of 100. It wasn’t a surprise.

I anticipate and appreciate all condolences sent my way.

Truthfully, I barely knew the woman. We’d talked perhaps 3-4 times in the past thirty years. I heard a lot of stories, anecdotes, over the years. Amazing woman. It saddens me deeply that’s she’s gone. Saddens me that I didn’t make more of an effort to stay in touch.

We lost someone else couple of mos. ago, as well. It makes one ponder the issue of mortality.

I can understand why religious folk believe the way they do. Here you have someone who’s always been there, whether peripherally or otherwise, a constant in your life: you begin to take it for granted that that person will always be an anchor, a cameo in the play that is your life, or even a star on your personal stage.

And then: gone.

We are all of us as unique as a snowflake, and to think that one day we melt away in the warm rays of the sun is an unpleasant thought. The thought of the candle that is you running low, and guttering, and out and gone.

And there is that issue of saying goodbye. No one wants to say farewell forever. That hope in the heavy heart that someday, some way, eternity is in some way revocable. That small hole opened, perhaps to be filled in by life’s barrage, other people, other items, sometimes a wound, sometimes a void.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow, it is. Whether it’s a Southern minute, or a New York minute, life changes. Life ends. Life goes on.

My favorite author, Harlan Ellison (Shatterday), once stated: anything more than twelve minutes of personal pain is just wanton self-pity.

This has been my twelve minutes.

Thank you for listening.