Modern Death

I have read about this phenomenon: the living hover over artifacts of the deceased (and by "artifacts," I mean technological remnants--blogs, emails, avatars). Such communications remain fresh, almost (to our living, projecting minds) expectant, awaiting reply. The living have just so much, and remain hungry for more: there ought to be more; there must be more.

And so I re-read her emails, a brief flurry after 10+ years of silence. A rush of foregiveness and apologies and clarifications, of "getting things off the chest" while there was still time. And now, time is stilled, at least for her.

We will serenade our Louie,
Till health and voices fail,
And we'll pass and be forgotten with the rest.

We are poor little lambs

Who have lost our way,

Baa! Baa! Baa!