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In the midst of life we are in death, Episcopalians say at the graveside.
“A single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty,”
We are imperfect mortal beings, aware of that mortality even as we push it away, failed by our very complication, so wired that when we mourn our losses we also mourn, for better or for worse, ourselves. As we were. As we are no longer. As we will one day not be at all.
Time is the school in which we learn, / Time is the fire in which we burn: Delmore Schwartz again.
