Too early to feel resigned, surely

I did say it and have done for a while.
It's our turn now - just can't be denied.

We're at the top of the ladder. Next in line.
Every week, perhaps every day, there'll be a passing,
a departure
that stirs our memory, shakes us to the core, reminding
us of our mortality, its brief tenure.

There are no words. Surely it's too early to feel resigned.
It might just be quiet silence, a gentle nod
to say see you on the other side.

Take it easy, Glen Frey.

http://eagles.com/news/266763

The curtain falls
I take my bow
That's how it's meant to be
It's your world now.

(Frey-Tempchin, from Long Road Out of Eden)

Sway to the music

Listening to Ziggy play his guitar.

You never think of mortality when you grow up with people and events. Life in the moment is always more important. Perhaps we just don't want to think that far ahead.

Sure enough, it is not that far after all.

I remember an elderly aunt saying how all she did in the later years was read the obits. It sounded pretty morbid to me, in my youthful ignorance/arrogance. But I stored the knowledge, even in the dreading of the day I'd be doing the same.

The day's arrived. And I won't seek out the obits -- they'll come to me, media being the way it is in the 21st century. From now on, there will be days like these, almost everyday.

Not quite like December 8, 1980. The (other) day that the music died. That was pure disbelief, "tragic to be taken so young, so unexpectedly."

Or the day a 14 year old school friend died, from skateboarding on her neighbourhood pavement.

Henceforth, there'll be sadness that is poignant, self-reflective, foreboding too. Who'll be next? Him. Her. Me?


Too sad to be *sad* this day.
Let's sway
Sway through the crowd to an empty space....