The anniversary may have escaped many of us, but 2022 is the year in which the film, Soylent Green is set.  The story depicts a time when human activity has so depleted natural resources, humans can no longer grow crops to sustain themselves.  The living survive by eating the dead.�

I’d been tracking down a friend for several weeks.  She answered none of my landline or cell phone messages, nor my emails.   Naturally, I was relieved when I received her response, at last. As I feared, the news was bad. She’d been diagnosed with Parkinson’s and was recoveri

Last week, I was in the checkout line of a grocery store.  In my basket, I had two items, small boxes, which together totaled nearly $70.  A young man ahead of me waited for the clerk to tally his bill, but before he handed over his money, he turned in my direction to ask if he coul

I never cried for my mother when she died, nor am I inclined to do so now, three months later.  At first, I thought my behavior peculiar.  A counselor assured me it wasn’t. “Some people need to hold on to their grief.  You’ll cry when you’re ready.” As the weeks pass,  I

Perhaps, my mother’s passing colors my reaction to the current demonstrations for racial and economic equality.  I continue to see the need for change, but when Death takes the center stage, it presents a standard that when measured against the demonstrations makes the latter seem

My mom’s death was a long goodbye. I’d anticipated her passing since she’d reached her late 70’s, after her bout with breast cancer and her heart attack. But she surprised me, as she sometimes did. She died at 104 in a care facility where she’d resided for 16 years. Througho

When I turned 39, I received my first letter from AARP.  Looking down at the envelope, I was stunned.  Me?  Middle Aged?  There’d been a mistake. If my response seemed melodramatic, then, imagine how I reacted when a crematorium invited me to lunch, recently. My heart stopped. �

On the way to the gym at my retirement center, there’s a table with a small basket resting on it.  Sometimes the basket is empty.  Sometimes it isn’t  When it isn’t, it’s full of condolence cards addressed to the family of a resident who has died.  As yet I know so few peo

When I wrote the latest version of my will, my attorney noted I’d made no provisions for my ashes.  Nonplussed, I asked, “Doesn’t the funeral parlor dump them?” As the deceased-to-be, my lawyer’s question struck me as impertinent.  I don’t pay taxes once I’m dead.  Wh

I met a friend for coffee at a neighborhood shop last week. We hadn’t gotten together for some time and I’d missed our chats. The minute she walked through the door I could see the malaise that hung about her. Outwardly, she looked well. Her hair was recently trimmed and she was s