at last
we like to party

unfortunate talent

My friend Charlie once told me he thought I wrote better obituaries than anyone he knew. If true, it's an odd and unfortunate talent, to be sure. You write about someone who has touched you; you know they will never see what you've written. You might be pouring your heart out to the person, but only their survivors will read what you've said. The answer, I suppose, is to write about the person while they're still around to read it. But I can't accept the possibility that someone I care about won't be here forever, and so I wait until after the fact to say anything at all.

Which is an utterly lame explanation for why I'm saying this and no more for the time being: I just got an email from someone I've known almost my entire life, someone who matters to me. They have Stage IV cancer. And there's nothing more I can write for now, because I can't accept the possibility.

Comments