Still, I’m curious to know what she died of. Although a fair bit older than me (she used to take me to the rec to play on the swings when I was a little boy and she was a teenager, before my stepfather forbade further contact with my natural father’s family) she was well short of being old enough to have succumbed to old age in the usual way. Maybe I’ll never know, and I don’t suppose it matters. No doubt her funeral is done and dusted, and she is come to dust or is in the process of so doing.
In consequence of the news, I had a session with some photo albums tonight. It led to the question it always leads to: what the hell is it all about? And, odd as it might seem, I kept hearing that old rhyme:
It isn’t the cough
That carries you off
But the coffin
They carries you off in
As rhymes go, it isn’t entirely rational. But neither is life.