Death knows no sorrow. Sorrow is for the survivors.

     Misfortune ought not be synonymous with demise.

      Recently I have had what some may call a bad run of family and friends dying on me. Two years ago, my older brother, the famous pedal steel guitarist Bobby Lee, then three months later my best friend of many years, the mystic of Nob Hill, Wendell E. Wilkinson. Six months ago, my loyal guard and confidant, Vladimir the Cat. Then just this month, my gregarious kid brother Richard Paul Lee Jr. Just five days later, my dear generosity-challenging mother, Ruth Hellman Lee Porter.

     None of these were total surprises. Bob was diagnosed late with cancer. He was 73. Wendell at 79 refused any kind of treatment and told me he could 'meditate' rather than medicate his condition away. Vladimir was around 13 in human years and had never felt his tail, which caused him to walk and run awkwardly. Rick was 68 with liver disease and Mom was 95 with multiple health problems. So, it might be thought that each died of 'natural' causes, but I don't buy it.

     Nature doesn't do Death. Time does Death. Nature does Rebirth.