A man in my family was run over by a drink-driver some months ago, and since then he’s been lying in a coma. He died last week and the funeral is today. I didn’t really know him.
Today’s also the funeral of A.’s grandaunt. She was old and said no to an operation which could have saved her (though it wasn't very likely). A. knew her well. In her apartment we found photographs from 1937, she was smiling.
And I don’t really know why I’m writing this it’s not as if I have anything to say. Death is strange and one day I’ll die too. So will you and everyone we know, and then we'll be absolutely nothing together.