I have a very peculiar attitude towards death.
This will probably be a weird story. I’m healthy (I hope!) and happy (overall!) so musing about death on an ordinary Tuesday morning seems a bizarre thing to do. But why not? I’m just sticking to my habit of daily writing on Medium.
I’ve seen death in front of me only once. My wife’s grandmother passed away when she was ninety-four. She was one of the most amazing women I’d ever known. For one thing, she welcomed me wholeheartedly when I started dating her granddaughter, who was very young at the time (so young, I won’t even clarify in this…