There’s nothing to make me question, or at least re-examine, my own mortality like the death of a close relative or friend. My aunt, a couple of years older than me and so more like a sister, died of cancer in her early forties. A trio of friends and former colleagues have died suddenly, early 50s. The big one, of course, was when my father passed away.
Sometimes I want to ask these people a question. Something I think they’ll remember and I want confirmed. But then I recall they are not here anymore.
