The Passing Parade
This one has been difficult to write. Not because the emotions are unwelcome, but because of so much that wasn't included. This is a bit about my evolving relationship with death over the years. To tell you about some deaths that have meant very much to me, or that were dramatic, or very sad, would take more than these few pages. Maybe in another volume.
Let me linger a bit, tell a few stories, say how they touched me, but also understanding and remembering that mourning and grief are universal experiences, and nothing you read here is special only to me, and that you have mourned and grieved.
Let’s leave my ranting about death for another time.
As a young child, death is a mystery.
Before I was three, and this is slightly outside of my memory, there were the deaths of my cousin Carlitos, my Uncle Tony, and my great grandmother Rebecca. While I’m not certain my memories of these three are real, I do remember the grief of my family when they left.
At eight years old, which is much too early. I knew what it was like to know many people who die. I saw more death than the average American kid sees. That's what happens when you hang out with old people with cancer, they have the tendency to die. That influenced me all through my life.
And then, having escaped death a couple of times myself, the perspective of gambling with house money has been with me.
When friends and acquaintances died when I was a young, there was sadness and grief. Was it possible I had learned to appear to accept death and mourning? Maybe I had learned to not be theatrical with my feelings of loss.
Many people have said to me that they didn’t know anyone who died until their grandparents did. It seems there were more than a handful of friends who died before I was out of high school. And there more friends who died when I was in my 20s. I saw my grandfather die twice. Then as the years passed, uncles and aunts, cousins, nieces, my parents. Many others who died by illness or by accident.
My kids didn’t experience much death. Max saw my dad die. We saw a dead man on the street. We went to see Ray Charles lying in state. A classmate of Noah’s died on a field trip.
One afternoon my dad called. He asked if I could come over. But I was working on a deadline and I couldn’t, but we stayed on the phone for over an hour. We talked about so many things. We talked about each of the kids in detail. We talked about past memories. It was a lovely and loving conversation. When we finished he told me he loved me, but that wasn’t unusual. Within minutes after we hung up, he died.
I felt like I got to say goodbye.
At the end, they said my aunt Mary was in a diabetic coma. I saw her heart rate change according to the conversations in her hospital room.
I got to say goodbye.
My dear cousin Alex called and asked if he could come and spend some time with us. I told him it wouldn’t be practical because this was when Sarah was having major surgery, and I didn’t think I could really be there for both of them at the same time.
I still feel enormous grief and guilt because a short while later, he died, and not a good death. His death left a hole in my life.
The last time I saw my mom was the day before she died. She was in a coma. But when I left her, it felt like a goodbye.
Clark Olliff was a delightful young man who grew up with our kids. The last time I saw him I could see he was in great emotional pain. I should have listened to him, and hugged him.
He died shortly after.
Thanksgiving
When Sarah and I got together, we decided that our exes should have the children on holidays and birthdays.
In 2023 Max, who has become the alpha male in the family, said that he would be hosting Thanksgiving. Over all those years this was the third time that I spent all Thanksgiving day with the children.
Thanksgiving 2025 was the same, but dramatically different. Max once again organized Thanksgiving. This time there was my brother Mario and Beth and his sons Roman, Aaron, and Zach, Suzi was there, and Megan‘s parents Mike and Karen, and Joe’s mother and sister June and Jennifer.
It was a very solid Thanksgiving. It was the first time in years that I had Thanksgiving with my brother. With Max I once again had Thanksgiving with Suzi. And everyone got along so well. There was smiling, and laughter.
A solid feeling of family. Megan‘s dad Mike, and I had a short, very civil, very reasonable little talk about Trump.
Lily got loudly pleasantly drunk.
ALL of the mothers there cornered me and insisted I drive her home. So charming. Much happiness.
But the most notable thing was Joe’s mother June. It seems that she talked to everyone, it was such a heart warming thing to see. It was so good seeing her closely talking with people that she had never met before. And she spent this Thanksgiving with her son and daughter and grandchildren.
As I was dropping June off at Frannie‘s house that evening, we had a very loving exchange about life and family. She said a couple of very kind things, and made some very insightful observations that really meant a lot to me.
The tragedy is, that night she died in her sleep.
You can imagine how this was a shock to everyone there, or if you were there, you remember well how shocked you were when you heard the news.
Sarah and I went with Jennifer back to Chicago. We started the process of closing down June’s house. We spent time with June’s siblings.
Sharing death with another family was moving.
Where am I now?
Waves of mourning about my aunt Mary
Grief and guilt about my cousin Alex
Mourning and regret about dear Clark Olliff.
In writing this, the echoes of all those many dear ones who have gone on.
May their memory be a blessing