STUFFED
I think a lot about dying these days. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I’m over halfway to a hundred? Maybe because I wonder what my family would do without me? Maybe because I see signs of decay in so many places. It’s in the news. It’s in the illnesses and diseases and diagnoses that drop like bombs around you. It’s a worm in the brain that whispers what if. What if? What would I do if I lived forever anyway? Even if inevitable, it’s a squirmy uncomfortable contemplation. All the accumulated flotsam of my life, both soothing and cluttering...