There has been a death in the family. He was the grandson of one of my Aunt's, right about my own age. I didn't know him, but it is hitting me hard for both known and unknown reasons. One is empathy for my Aunt and my Uncle. They are sweet old people in mid Missouri. Their house feels like a Grandparent's house should. It is a little out of town in the corn fields with a big lawn and a little dog. It just doesn't seem right that they should be burying their children's children. Another reason I'm balling is that every death in the family reminds me of every other family death. Today the deaths of my Uncle and My Grandpa came flooding back. It is as if I have only one storage compartment in my heart for grief caused by death. Maybe empathy is the only reason I am feeling grief. But this isn't about me. I'm a peripheral figure at best. I don't really need consolation. It is my Aunt and Uncle who do. I'm only crying because I care about them and I'm resonating with their pain and hearing in their voices echoes of loss from my own past. I'm sad with and for them. That and there is another family member that I will never get to know. He was a father and husband and grandson. My family is diminished by one. Goodbye Ryan. I wish I knew you. So if you know Aunt Shirley and Uncle Bunky give them your condolences. I can give you their phone number and address. But if you aren't family maybe just take a moment to think about your own dead. Then take a longer parcel of time to think about the living that you might be neglecting, friends and family alike.