On the weekend, a friend got some news about his mother. She has been sick with a chronic condition for a while now, but in recent weeks, her health has gone downhill. She’s had to accept some intervention which indicate that ultimately, the end is coming, sooner rather than later. It’s sobering.
Even though she has been sick for a while, and we’ve all known that the disease is terminal, it’s still confronting. I pondered on it a lot last night, and talked it over with the Handsome Sidekick. For most of us, I suppose (although I certainly don’t have the figures) we don’t have a long time to contemplate our imminent deaths, especially if that death comes earlier than expected. I’m sure we’d all like to imagine we’ll live a long and healthy life and that the end of it, have a comfortable, and hopefully quick, death.
So as you probably know, both David Bowie and Alan Rickman died last week, and the news hit me harder than I expected. Perhaps it’s because in both cases, the news came to everyone, except those very close to them, as a shock. Perhaps it’s because several friends’ parents or parents-in-law have died recently. All I know is that after I’d put our Offpsring to bed, on the evening after I’d heard about Bowie’s death, I was clearing up the plates and setting the dishwasher going, and I found myself holding back tears. And then I realised why.