№ 222. Two Funerals and A Film About Black Death

We visited two funerals this week and to cap it off, I finally finished watching the The Seventh Seal.

Bart would say, "¡Ay, caramba!". I would say, "Tick tock".

First Funeral (Sunday, October 11). A close friend since kindergarten days (almost 40 years of friendship), a cardiologist, had to go through the last three or so months of his mother. His mom was diagnosed with stage four liver cancer last July. The cancer has metastasized to the lungs. It was again an issue between curative or palliative. In the end, doctor friends advised palliative care.

I was called to the hospital last Sunday to advise on end of life issues. She passed away three days later, survived by her husband, two daughters, two sons and a number of grandchildren.

Second Funeral (Wednesday, October 14). An officer at work confided that her father, a chronic diabetic, was undergoing renal dialysis. That was May, five months ago. He passed away last Monday, four days before his 75th birthday.

Our laminated lives seem both too brief and yet too lengthy. How is meaning and measure appreciated? Is it achieved, gained or obtained? Does one decide whether to view life through the lens of kairos or chronos, or both, depending on the need?

№ 149. Eyes Fastened with Pins

Eyes Fastened with Pins
by Charles Simic 

How much death works,
No one knows what a long
Day he puts in.
The little
Wife always alone
Ironing death’s laundry.
The beautiful daughters
Setting death’s supper table.
The neighbors playing
Pinochle in the backyard
Or just sitting on the steps
Drinking beer. Death,
Meanwhile, in a strange
Part of town looking for
Someone with a bad cough,
But the address is somehow wrong,
Even death can’t figure it out
Among all the locked doors ...
And the rain beginning to fall.
Long windy night ahead.
Death with not even a newspaper
To cover his head, not even
A dime to call the one pining away,
Undressing slowly, sleepily,
And stretching naked
On death’s side of the bed.