Thursday, February 28, 2013

Ashes To Ashes

I'm running back home again tomorrow for the funeral of yet another aunt.  I didn't know her as well as I did my Aunt Mollye, unfortunately; but her passing leaves my dad as the last one standing of his cohort - out of 3 brothers and their wives, 5 are now gone. 

It's strange, realizing that the memories the 6 of them shared - memories of growing up during the depression, fighting in the Second World War, raising their families during the post-war boom and the subsequent turmoil of the 60's and 70's  - are being snuffed out, as if they had never even happened.  And I think of myself and my friends, immersed in our busy lives of child-rearing and jobs and social events, and imagine all that, too, someday slowly disappearing, barely or not at all remembered by our kids.  That's one of the saddest things about a death - all the stories that die with that person, all the events and experiences the deceased can no longer bear witness to. 

On the other hand, it's a Jewish funeral; so the food will be awesome.  We're good at that.


  1. I'm so sorry. My uncle is very ill and I have similar thoughts running through my head.

    (And some of the best food I've ever had was at a Jewish funeral, so I hear you there. Even in dark times there's nothing like a good blintz.)

  2. I am so sorry that you have another funeral to go to. Do you at least enjoy getting to see family and old friends?

  3. I'm sorry to hear about your aunt. I imagine this makes your father feel lonely.

    And the food at a Jewish funeral - yeah. So much of it, and so good.

  4. Such an incredible generation... disappearing...
    I hope that at least there is joy in being with family, along with the good food.

  5. I am sorry to hear about your aunt's passing. My mother's mother is the only one alive from that generation in our immediate family. Just to think what she had to live through - 2 famines, World War II, Stalin, ugh- and that's just the stuff I know about. Makes me feel bad for whining about my life, but not enough to stop though.