A number of people on the edge of my life have passed away in the last couple of months. Mostly relatives, real and adopted. People who I didn't quite make a one-to-one connection with but thought well of and whose company I enjoyed, and will now remember fondly.

Death, for me, is the sadness of knowing I'll never see someone again. Knowing that that person's particular talent and personality is lost to the world except in memory. And in this case, the lost opportunity of not knowing them better.

Sometimes I cry, too. Usually at some random time months or years later. Thinking happy thoughts or wishing I could see them again.

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