JULY 26
Illness is the night-side of life, a more onerous citizenship.
Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom
of the well and in the kingdom of the sick.
—SUSAN SONTAGOne of the reasons the death of someone close is so pro-
foundly shaking for us is that it holds up the mirror to us
and says, You, too. Sometimes this may seem a welcome
prospect—our wish to join the loved one is to strong, and
our aversion to life without that person is so great.
Yet there is a way in which we draw back from facing our
own vulnerability and the prospect of our own death. We
read of death daily, sometimes skirt close to it in our own
and our loved ones’ illnesses, but when it enters the portals
of our own family and close friendships, it speaks in a dif-
ferent, more intimate language. The mysteries and
quandaries of death ask their recurrent questions: Is there
life beyond? Do we know one another in a personal way?
Do we know ourselves? Or do we become a part of some
great cosmic energy?
There are no sure answers to these questions. The best
answer—as the best memorial to our loved one—is to live
our lives fully, one day at a time.
I am a citizen of this day. Tomorrow will bring its own demands,
its own gifts.