I was busting to share my great idea: I had a crush on death. “I can hardly wait to die!” Celia was horrified, so I explained. I could see it all. I would die young a hero mauled by lions and after that I would explore the jungle of death! It was a great idea, … Continue reading My crush on death
Mother (as we called her then) had lost her friend her dear friend Verity had died and Celia was sad. Three days later in the dead of night she had a visitation. Verity stood at the end of her bed laughing and laughing and laughing and shining with delight. Celia was enraged. “How dare you … Continue reading If you only knew
When Aunty Lesley died of tuberculosis she was thirty and I was only three. I have no memories of Aunty Lesley I have no memories at all from little me only the mythology of tragic death embedded but now I think of Celia giving birth in the deep midwinter to daughter number five and four … Continue reading When Aunty Lesley died
(Reposted from 2015) In which I try to come to terms with Death by comparing Ruby's God of Mud with Death as described by Steve Jobs. When Ruby (not her real name) was very young, she used to share her insights into life, the universe and everything. I wrote down 79 of these as found poems. … Continue reading Death through the eyes of a child
(Republished from 2016) In which I look ahead to the final task in my year of being old: coming to terms with death and dying. Yeeouch. So, I'm putting myself through a DIY boot camp for the bonus years, achieving one goal every month. I'm booting myself into action, establishing habits that are likely … Continue reading My year of being old