Now at this hour my Aunt's memorial is happening, faraway. I could not be there in person, but thoughts are there. She was my father's twin sister. Though she and he departed many decades apart, in a sense I feel they went hand in hand, for they both chose their deaths, and chose to die in water. A river and a lake, beautiful and loved. He was 35 years old, she was 90. There is a kind of poetic mirroring, these two so close and so far.
Next time I shall die
Bringing forth wings and feathers like angels;
After that, soaring higher than angels-
What you cannot imagine
I shall be that.