Like Dust In The Wind

 So it's been a week since Wifey's friend Alissa died, and it's as if she's already forgotten. When I spoke to her ex boyfriend Jamie, it appeared there would be a funeral -- and Wifey reached out to mutual friend Jackie to discuss it. Jackie said there was an online obituary, at a site called Dignity, and Wifey went on and uploaded some photos of her and Alissa -- bikini clad teen girls at, I'm guessing, Crandon Park in the early 70s -- and I left a note of condolences.

Wifey left Saturday for her trip to Highlands Beach, and I figured I would be attending a funeral, probably Sunday, alone. And then...nothing.

The Dignity page is no longer there. If I had to assume, it's because someone reported the news and put it up, but then no one paid for it, and so it was dropped. Jamie had told me he would let me know when the funeral would be -- I've heard nothing. Wifey found Alissa's oldest boy Seth's cell number, and sent him a text -- no reply.

I'm guessing the sons and Jamie and any other friends of Alissa came to terms with the fact that she was SO private, and probably didn't want any sort of deal made over her death. And if I believe anything to a certainty, it's that we should all decide what we wish at the time and after we leave this mortal coil.

Wifey texted me -- maybe I ought to reach out to Jamie again? Nah, I told her -- I decided to concentrate on the living -- enough effort spent on the dead. This was of course hilarious, as my nickname on our Canes Squad chat is "Obituary Dave," since I'm typically the first to share news of a death. Sometimes Norman scoops me...

So likely there'll be no memorial service -- as the very private Alissa wished. But I will remember her warmth and sweet heart, and some laughs we shared back in the day.

And it's funny, when we consider how much we worry and fuss about our lives, and the lives of those we hold sacred, and yet, in such a short time, it's like none of us were ever here.

I always do that thought experiment, in my own family. My paternal grandfather was gone probably 6 years when I was born -- so I never knew him. My maternal grandfather died when I was maybe 5 or 6 -- I have a single memory of meeting him in a Queens hospital bed.

I wasn't close with either grandmother -- they were old world ladies, one of whom mumbled with a heavy Yiddish accident, and I can honestly say I don't recall a single thing she said. My Dad's Mom was educated and spoke well -- but had little use for me, nor I for her.

And that's just TWO generations ago -- my great grandparents are mere abstractions -- and some lived as recently as 100 years ago.

In 2125 I am quite confident I will be mentioned for an obscure reference, if at all. NO ONE will care a whit about so many things crucial to me.

As Kansas sung -- just dust in the wind.

And yet I don't find that sad or pathetic at all -- just strong evidence for the necessity to savor life NOW. I have a close friend had a nasty fight with a very scary form of breast cancer -- she is thankfully disease free now -- and she puts off NOTHING. If a trip merely occurs to her -- she and her husband are off. I admire that so.

In my case, I have little desire to travel -- but plenty of desire to enjoy stuff close to home -- and so I shall -- before those who survive me sit around, wondering if I wanted a LOT of drinking at any shiva that may follow my burial. Spoiler alert: I want a LOT of drinking...