One of the sad things about getting old is that there is an increasing tattoo of funerals of friends, relatives, and peers to go to. And each is different, and strikes us in a different manner. At 74, I still have my mother, who is 93, but her brothers and sisters who are still alive are all in their 80's and 90's. And Dad, and all his brothers and sisters are already gone.
For me, some parts of the grieving never quite end. I had a first cousin that was my best friend and a fellow millwright, we worked on many jobs together, that died of an asbestos related cancer 13 years ago. When I get a particularly gnarly job or one that has a peculiar twist to it, I still find myself thinking, "wait until I tell Dave about this one". And there are some songs that Dad used to play on his guitar, he had a beautiful high tenor voice, that when I hear them, I have a hard time holding the tears back. Yes, life is for the living, and we must continue to live it to the fullest, but there are special people in all our lives that will be with us for the rest of the time we have allotted, and we will miss them always.