So it goes

My last remaining uncle died last night, and now I have one lovely, frail, elderly aunt left. Uncle Paul was an art historian, a college professor (with all the good and bad that entails), someone bright, capable of great charm, father of three wonderful children, including my beloved cousin Jody. He lived a long, good life (Uncle Paul did -- Jody died young). He was 90, had been a tennis and squash champion most of his life, and he tolerated the crazy Stuart family very well indeed (his widow, Aunt Ailie, is my father's sister).
But as we, the sandwich generation, age, we're losing the older ones and suddenly becoming the senior generation. I don't feel that old at age 59 (and besides, my 93 year old mother is still going strong and living on her own) but it's strange to watch that generation, the one that fought WWII (Uncle Paul was in the Navy) disappear. To look at my cousins and suddenly see their parents.
And all the while still dealing with semi-grown children and the pain of learning what life is like.

It's a strange life we baby boomers live. Knowing that the others will go -- my mother-in-law has advanced dementia and has been living in a nursing home for five years, slowly but determinedly going through any money that's left. My mother's hale and hearty, but I know that can't last forever, and Aunt Ailie is lovely but frail.

I feel like Keanu Reeves in Speed --- "we're all gonna die."

I think Judith Viorst wrote a book called NECESSARY LOSSES, which probably addresses just this sort of thing. We lost our parents, we lose our children as they grow up and move out on their own, we lose our youth but gain wisdom (please God) and we lose friends for a myriad of reasons.

And I think, instead of chasing after my elusive deadline like a madwoman, which I've been doing ever since I got home from New Zealand and Australia, I'm going to take the day off to reflect and make peace with the various passages life puts us through.

And say a short, sweet goodbye to Uncle Paul.