Death should bother me more. Jesse died six weeks and two days ago. I heard about it in synagogue today. I wondered if I might have been a part of that. I had said or texted something to him must be more than a year ago. It wasn't unkind, or untrue, but it was unnecessary. It was enough that I would have cleaned it up the next time I saw him, but I hadn't seen him. And now he's not.

There is no news about his death that we know. I found a facebook group of his class of 1980, I guess just a few years older than I, that was also sad to see him go, but no news, and shocked. His place of death was Apartment Sidewalk. I don't know if that's a euphemism for jumper. He was apparently depressed since his wife died. I don't know who else he felt he had had.

So I wonder if most of us die at once, or if it mostly happens long before our bodies give up, whether we give up, or we feel the effort isn't worth the return anymore. I don't know that there is anything else to say about it.