a funeral

Tomorrow, I have a funeral to go to.

Last Wednesday night, my 55 year old uncle died in his sleep. A man full of plans, just waiting to finish his boring day job, the one he'd been too afraid/prudent/cautious etc to leave earlier and do something for himself that he would enjoy, care about. Instead he lived for his weekends, his garden, his projects, his house in the West.

He lived alone, and no one found him til the next afternoon.

It's shocking. You don't really believe it can happen, despite the fact that it happened to my aunt nearly two years ago. It happens to people all the time, I know, it's just ... can you live like that? Waiting for the lightening strike?

But it does make me aware of my mortality to an unpleasant degree. It's skewed maybe, but I suddenly feel far closer to 55  than 25. That's a country I'll never see again, as someone said to me today. And yes, the years are speeding by. My mother died at 57. Her sister at 58. My great grandfather at 57. What if that's where I get to? I could have two decades left.

My daughter is 7 next month. I'll be 34 in a couple weeks... decades, slipping on by. How do I have a 7 year old? Is this why people have lots of children? To slow down time? To get another chance?

My grandmother is 92, and has to bury her son tomorrow. Well. Cremate him. It's not fair for her, she's lost so many, and never thought she'd live to see this. He called her every day. For decades... my parents sneered at that, but the truth is that I talked to my mother most days too. It's not good to be so close, I think. It's too hard, when things go wrong.