As a friend wrote to me, quoting Woody Allen: “I am not afraid of death. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.”
And, well … there are more. The news of them comes regularly now, not at the front door, but in the obituary pages. The celebrations of life mount with dispiriting regularity. Where once talk at dinner parties revolved around children or vacations, conversation has turned to the challenges of arthritis and high blood pressure, or the unexpected shadow that appeared on the x-ray, or the stroke that struck as randomly as lightning.Yet it still comes as a shock.
It was a gut punch. I looked at her dismayed, never having thought of not having enough time with her, or of living without her. Lately, like my niece, I have had a couple of diagnoses of my own, although they are nowhere near to being in her league. But I know now I am going to die. I won’t say what those diagnoses are, or if they’ll bring about my end tomorrow or — fingers crossed — 30 years from now, but I’m hoping for the latter.I do not believe in God, or a god in any of the variations humanity invented as a salve to mortality’s pain.
France Dernières Nouvelles, France Actualités
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