Sadness

One thing about growing old that sucks, is losing people.

Late last year, a good friend of decades, died a few days after his brother. Punch in the stomach pain followed by sadness of various levels.

Today I heard a high school friend with whom I have enjoyed much correspondence is in serious condition. I appreciate that he had his son notify me. He was one of the people I'd hoped to see at the 60th reunion in the fall.

So many of my friends are in their 80s and more. I now there will be more losses. I think of all the people from my childhood and young adulthood that are no more.

We lost classmates in Vietnam and car accidents. Some were felled by cancer when they were in their 30s and 40s, much too young.

We can't say in our late 70s we are much too young to die, but I agree with Dylan Thomas. Friends do not go gentle into that good night. I will rage, rage against the dying to the light.

Do not go gentle into that good night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.