Someone You Know is Dying
Someone You Know is Dying You haven’t been in touch for years, a connection grown thinner and thinner—yet she once knitted a hat and, because it was too small for her head, gave it to you. You got a blanket after the divorce, hers not yours, that was still to come. She was a fiddle player. Now, when you hear a jig or lively dance tune, you pause, remembering. The band stopped touring a few years back. On one hand you feel angry, then sad, then thoughtful. Nothing feels right. She spins, her spinning wheel sits silent, the remains of the last dyed yarns died. You ask friends: Why didn’t she fight? She wasn’t that old. It wasn’t cancer or some incurable disease. It was your ex-husband who said it best—She was too logical. Meaning—only an insane person contests death. Still, you’re pissed. There’s a picture of her you discovered on your hard drive when changing over to a new computer (another form of death, another story of grieving). Memorial Day 2005 by the lake. Exact...