And As Always...

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I'm on the road again. 

This time, for a sad reason. David Hartwell's funeral will be held in Massachusetts on Thursday morning. So I'm driving up to New England, where Marianne and I will overnight with friends. Then, in the morning, we'll pay our last respects to a man I've known for almost forty years.

Funerals are not really about the person who died, but a service paid to the community of people who survive him or her. We show up to say: Yes, your grief is appropriate. We feel something very similar. You are not alone.

These are important things to say. If we did not say them, we would not be human.

At the same time, it must also be said: All humans die. To feel grief over the death of someone who lived a full three-quarters of a century is to say that said person led such an extraordinary life that for him to die pretty much when the actuarial tables said he would is tragic.

As indeed it was.

Good night, David. And flights of teen angels sing thee to thy rest.

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