Yesterday the very last of my mother's generation (and the youngest) died. Aunt Martha was my oldest uncle's second wife, whom he married later in his life. She was 83, and a delightful member of our family. She always has a sunny disposition, even later as Alzheimer's took hold.
Their only son David is the youngest of my generation, nearly 20 years younger than I am. I'm the oldest of my generation, which brings mortality to mind. When we are young, we think death is so far away as to be unthinkable. Now I'm of an age where older family members are all gone, and friends are beginning to die.
Where does the Time go, and so quickly?