My grandfather has lived through the deaths of nearly everybody he’e ever known over the years. He turns 80 years old this July.
We often chat about this very topic over vodka and tonic each time he makes his annual trip south to pay me a visit. I’ve come to terms with the reality that I’ll be sitting in his seat decades from now sharing similar stories.
If it’s not the recent passing of pop culture figures I’ve grown up with in some form or fashion, such as David Bowie or Prince, it’s the moms and dads of friends who’ve been laying to rest for the final time over the past few months.
It’s depressing as hell when you think about it. Even worse is the untimely deaths of young children or teenagers, such as 17-year old Joe Skinner who passed away just a month after I wrote a story about his bout with leukemia.
I could put together a long list of names of people I’ve personally known who’ve died too early dating back to my teenage years, but it’s probably best to remember them fondly while appreciating those that are still here.