tribute to my aunt

Apollinaire's famous poem on the passage of time, "Le pont Mirabeau," is mostly about time as it relates to love, but there's a couplet in that poem that feels relevant right now:

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure

Les jours s'en vont je demeure

Night comes; the hour sounds. The days pass; I remain.

When Mom died, I rode home with Dad from Walter Reed. Without a word, I stumbled into the parent's house, went to my old bedroom, and fell into a depressed sleep for I don't know how long. I remember the first question to enter my head upon waking was, Why am I still alive? Didn't seem fair somehow. But like it or not, time flows ever forward, and life has to go on because that's just the structure of existence. There is no why.

There's only one older-generation relative still alive on my mother's side.

Good journey to you, Emo.